


Torchwood's Guide To The Zombie Apocalypse

by cantonforking



Series: SuperWho BB 2011/12  Universe [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantonforking/pseuds/cantonforking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been seven months since the Doctor left Bela with Captain Jack Harkness and she’s made a home in Torchwood. Now they’re facing a zombie apocalypse, a consulting criminal with some baggage and they’re all ready to team up with a famous detective. Whilst this has stricken Cardiff, Bela is struggling to answer the question that’s been plaguing her. Can she be a demon living as a human?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : There isn’t going to be a zombie apocalypse (hopefully) and none of these characters belong to me... yet.
> 
> **Warnings** : Violence, mild gore, some descriptions of torture in Hell, occasional language, zombies and the middle finger to science and continuity.
> 
> **Spoilers** : This has spoilers for Torchwood up to Episode 3 of Season 3, Supernatural up mid season 7 and Sherlock up to the end of season 2. It also has spoilers for the first story in this series, The Apocalypse Stops For No Time Lord.
> 
>  
> 
> **A/N** : So this fic is completely for my sister. She is my amazing beta and all round idea-bouncer-off-er. When she read The Apocalypse she said that she wanted to see the fic between Bela and Jack so I thought, why not. I'll do a 5k spin-off to submit to the SPW BB as well. Of course 5k words became 10k and 10k became 21k. But here you go Rosie, you're awesome.
> 
> Once more, massive thanks to [moonliteknight](http://moonliteknight.livejournal.com/) who did the stunning artwork. MK you are fantastic. I get a happy warm feeling every time I see the gif and the scene is just so flawless. You, my dear, are brilliant.
> 
> You can find the art masterpost [here](http://moonliteknight.livejournal.com/6184.html).
> 
> I would also again like to say thanks to the mods at superwho_bb. I loved being part of the big bang. Thank you for making it so fab.
> 
> For the LiveJournal master post, please go [here](http://jerkbitchbaby.livejournal.com/6536.html).

  
Prologue

One lovely night in the middle of June

 

 

Left then right. Its shadow still lingered on the wall as she turned the corridor, almost human but with an animal's face. Smatterings of blood hit the pavement at intervals, the only other clue that something had come down the alley before her.

The shadow dipped around the corner and Bela followed. The Glock was too light in her hands and she was more used to the fierce kick-back of her Desert Eagle. Nevertheless, the cold metal felt like safety.

Left again. Skidding round the corner, Bela slowed to a halt. The alley was empty, no noise or shadow to tell her where the creature had gone. A newspaper flapped in the breeze but nothing to suggest a route. Just then her earpiece crackled to life.

“ _I’ve got it!”_ Jack’s voice shouted in her ear. “ _On Slough Street moving west. It doesn’t seem to be hiding much anymore.”_

Slough Street. Bela pulled up the mental map of Cardiff she had been memorising. It wasn’t complete, not yet, but this was what she did best. Memorise the map, know every twist and turn, every alleyway that can break line of sight, every road that can provide a getaway car.

And _there_ , Slough Street. Now a route. Then Bela was moving, running as fast as she could and swearing under her breath. It had distance on her now, too much distance.

“ _Where are you?”_ Jack gasped in her earpiece. “ _Turn on your GPS. It’s taking Bowen Ave southwest._ ”

“I’m two minutes behind,” she replied, ignoring his request. She had quickly given up on the GPS after the satellite feed had failed two minutes into her first chase with it. Instead she turned on her mental map again and tried to find a shortcut.

“ _It’s on Princes Street now.”_ Jack was back in her ear. “ _Is this thing taking us in a circle?”_

“Maybe,” she said as a beautiful shortcut clicked into place on her map. “But he’s not going to finish it.”

Without breaking her stride she darted to the side, heading southwest instead of straight west. She hit Slough Street at a run, passing through a crossroad and narrowly avoiding being hit by a turning car.  Leaving tooting horns and angry voices behind, she slipped once more into the small roads, following Eden Avenue until it spun alongside Waterloo Quadrant and she took the turn.

“ _He just veered off onto Beach Road, going west again. I can keep up with him but I’m not gaining and we can’t shoot him. Too many eyes, even in the suburbs.”_

Bela swore again, her shortcut nullified. Now she was essentially running parallel to Jack and the creature, just two streets over and no intersection between them for too many metres. Any second the creature would turn off Beach Road and she would lose her advantage. Unless...

Quickly Bela sized up her options and smiled when she saw the perfect route. Tucking her Glock back into its holster, she took a sharp turn and vaulted over the nearest fence. She landed in a flower bed, silently apologising to the owners before she took off around the back of the house.

There were no gates or other obstacles around to the back garden and she was able to take the low fence at a steady pace. She landed in the yard of another suburban paradise, now on Victoria Lane, still running parallel to Beach Road.

Through the garden and she was on the road again. For a moment she considered passing between the parked cars but she couldn’t resist the opportunity. Silently hoping that no one was watching, she took the cars at a run and slid across the bonnet of a dark blue Toyota.

She hit the road with nothing more than a slight stumble, feeling immeasurably cooler than she probably looked. Straight ahead of her was a small alleyway leading through to Beach Road. As she sprinted off towards it Jack returned to her ear.

“ _It’s taking a turn down an alley onto Victoria Lane._ ” Instantly Bela had her Glock out and pointed ahead of her. Seconds later she swung around the corner and skidded to a half. The creature was no more than four metres ahead of her.

“Stop!” She shouted, aiming at the creature’s head. Ignoring her command, it spun around, only to be confronted by Jack, pounding down the alley from the other end. For a moment the creature looked back and forth between them, then it collapsed in on itself, falling to the ground and hiding its head.

“What took you so long?” Jack asked as he leaned over, panting hard. “And use your damn GPS next time.”

“Not a chance,” Bela smirked. “I know shortcuts that thing wouldn’t even dream of. Besides, your satellite is useless.”

“That’s the government’s satellite.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “Figures,” she muttered. Jack just laughed breathlessly.

\------------

 

 


	2. Part One

Part one

16th of June, 2012

About 3 minutes and, oh let’s say 23 seconds after 1 in the afternoon

 

“There’s something going around eating people’s brains.” Bela slowly looked up from her sandwich to her blank-faced boss.

 

After the Doctor left there was a while where Bela wasn’t sure if she had made the right choice. She didn’t know Jack, not really. Sure, they had survived the Apocalypse together, saved the world, demon and military man. So it wasn’t that trust was an issue. They had quite literally protected each other’s backs. The trust was there, that was the easy part.

 

On the first night there wasn’t a bed for Bela in the storage/office/headquarters/home of Torchwood. Jack gave her his instead, tucked away on a platform above the clutter of the warehouse. It looked like it had gotten less use than anything, a thin coat of dust covering the pillow. Whilst she slept in his bed, Jack simply disappeared. When Bela woke up the next morning, breakfast was waiting for her and Captain Jack with it.

 

There wasn’t much for Torchwood to do in Sydney so Jack decided it was a chance to give Bela training. From the moment he explained the rift in space and time she was lost. It was a whole new look at the world.

 

Even with what she had seen with the Doctor - everything he had told her - this was new. She thought she knew the world, all the intricacies of its dark underground. She knew the supernatural and all its secrets but she didn’t know about aliens and time travel and alternative universes. She didn’t know about rifts in time and all the things that fell through them.

 

It was strange, this whole new universe, but perhaps the strangest thing was how well the Captain and the demon fitted together. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t be friends; in fact, the problem was the opposite. On paper Jack was her boss. On paper she was meant to follow his every order, do as he said and not argue. On paper he led and she followed.

 

Of course that was never going to happen. It might be written but Bela wasn’t one for obeying rules. Jack gave the orders and Bela sometimes followed them. Jack led and Bela occasionally went in the same direction. Jack told her what to do and just every now and then, Bela wouldn’t question him.

 

The first time Bela ignored his orders, Jack raised an eyebrow. The second time he told her to listen to him. The third and fourth times he told her she was going to get them killed. The fifth time he just smiled ruefully.

 

From then on that was how it went. Jack gave orders and sometimes Bela obeyed. And whilst he was only her boss on paper, she didn’t stop calling him ‘sir’. That was how they worked. That was how they fitted together.

 

As it turned out, Jack was a good teacher and after only a few weeks in the Sydney warehouse, they  moved into the newly built Torchwood headquarters in Cardiff. The police hadn’t been happy with the return of Torchwood at first, something about the children being our future. They relented after Jack and Bela saved one of the police precincts from a small army of common aliens called Weevils.

 

So Bela became an official member of Torchwood, holder of what amounted to the all-access pass for Cardiff and its surroundings. It was weird. Bela Talbot, one of the world’s greatest thieves, employed by the government to protect their people.

 

More often than not Bela wondered if this was the right place for her, this position of hero, saving the humans. She was no longer one of them. Demons didn't fit in amongst the oblivious masses. They belonged in the red-washed flames of Hell, in the pits with the never-ending screams. Demons belonged among the dead or only with the living only to see them bleed.

 

So she didn't belong there because she wasn't human anymore, not anymore.

 

But neither was Jack. She'd seen him snap backwards, red spraying from his chest, then jerk awake seconds later. She'd seen him die, then leap to his feet as though he had never fallen. They weren't human, neither of them. They were misplaced creatures trying to save the world.

 

Perhaps that was why Jack asked her to join him. She had lingered on this thought for longer than she would've liked. Did she have a place among the ranks of Torchwood only because she was something else, something different?

 

In the end she decided it didn't matter. Jack laughed and quirked an eyebrow at her. They were odd ones out as they walked through the crowds. And if that was why she was now a part of Torchwood, that was okay.

 

\------------

 

“There’s something going around eating people’s brains.” Bela slowly looked up from her sandwich to her blank-faced boss.

 

“Wow, Jack,” she said dryly. “You sure know what to say to a girl.”

 

“Hey, that line's worked before,” he replied with a wide grin.

 

“And that brings me to the end of my lunch.” Carefully Bela pushed the plate to the other end of the table as Jack laughed, trying not to think about how lumpy the salmon looked. “So, what’s the story?”

 

“Three people have been found dead so far, all with their skulls bashed in and their brains missing. Apparently the investigators have been finding saliva in the victim’s brain cavities, as well as something they can’t identify.”

 

“Alien goo?”

 

“Seems like it,” Jack said with a smirk. “And that makes it our division.”

 

“Alien makes sense.” Bela spun her laptop around so Jack could see the fluctuating graphs on the screen. “Rift activity was particularly high last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if something came through.”

 

“Lock and load then,” Jack said with a grin. “We’re going to see a man about some brainless corpses.”

 

“I remember a time when that would constitute a weird day for me.”

 

\------------

 

It was a short ride to the morgue, filled with idle chat. They had developed an easy rapport now, slick with clever quips, teasing remarks and swapped stories. True, they were going to see a man about some corpses, but Bela still managed to make Jack laugh.

 

As always, the coroner’s domain was a white-washed wonderland filled with implements that would look at home in a torture chamber or a hospital. They walked along the rows of linen-draped bodies and Bela couldn’t stop herself from wondering which went to Heaven and which fell to Hell.

 

Finally, they came to the victim. It was a male in his thirties, brown hair, blue eyes, no brain. The lumpy 'Y' of the coroner's stitches cut through his abdomen but Bela couldn't avert her eyes from his head.

 

The man's skull had been smashed open, jagged bits of bone and torn skin surrounding the empty cave where his brain used to be. It looked strange, cleaned free of blood for the coroner's inspection so it seemed almost fake. Almost.

 

“As you can see,” the coroner lectured, pointing to the edges of the wound. “Something ripped apart his head and removed the brain. There are traces of saliva and marks consistent with human teeth inside the head which suggest that it was removed by the mouth rather than by hand.

 

“Unfortunately, we can't seem to get a DNA reading from the saliva and there are no other traceable pieces of evidence left behind.” He shrugged helplessly, a look of bafflement on his face that Bela was becoming accustomed to seeing on those surrounding Torchwood cases. “There were blood smears from the attacker but there's some kind of variable in them that seems to be making them unreadable to our equipment. We can't even get a blood type.”

 

He blinked owlishly from behind his glasses, waiting for a response, anything that might make more sense than the unending silence of confusion. None of them spoke. Finally he just shook his head and wandered away to another cold corpse and another mystery.

 

“Any ideas?” Bela asked as soon as they were alone with the body. “Preferably ones that don’t involve us going hunting for clues in this guy’s cranium.”

 

Jack shook his head. “Nothing. If this thing has been to Earth before, I haven’t heard about it.”

 

“That’s not foreboding at all,” she muttered. “What now? Turn to the Toshi?”

 

“Seems like a good idea,” Jack nodded, contemplating the body laid out in front of them. “If anything can shed some light on this case, she’ll find it.

 

\------------

 

‘Toshi’ was what Jack had named the sprawling computer system that ran through Torchwood and held every scrap of information they had. Bela didn’t understand the name at first because sure, there were some Toshiba parts in the system, but not that many. She figured it out eventually.

 

Toshiko Sato; she had authored most of the programs that monitored the rift, most of the programs that Torchwood relied on. When she asked who Toshiko was, Jack had easily shrugged off the question but Bela knew him well enough by then to know she shouldn’t ask again.

 

The next time that Jack was away she hacked into the network and pulled up the old personnel files. In the past year Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper and Ianto Jones had died in the line of duty. Now the guilt in Jack’s eyes made sense. So did the huge Sydney warehouse and the single captain, hidden on the other side of the globe.

 

Hell might have scraped away at her emotions but Bela still had more left than most hellions. She never said anything but it was easier to understand the things that Jack Harkness said and the orders he gave.

 

When he told her to stay back, keep away from the action, Bela used to burn with anger, stewing until she boiled over. Now it made sense, the secretive leader with his records of the dead. Furious accusations of _icanlookaftermyself_ became subtle reassurances that _I’mnotleavingyou_. It took a while but eventually Jack seemed to realise: she was not a demon he could run from.

 

\------------

 

Four hours later they were in the underground Torchwood headquarters – which she had affectionately dubbed ‘the cave’ – and Bela’s eyes were fuzzy from staring at the computer screen for so long. The cold electric light wasn’t helping either, although Bela would always be thankful that she didn’t make the light flicker anymore. Most demons did.

 

“Well,” she called over to Jack, half hidden behind the stack of books on his desk. “There’s a guy in Kansas who claims he knows the exact time and date of the Zombie apocalypse.”

 

Jack slammed a book shut and peered around his stack at her, hair still artfully tousled whilst hers fell in tired strings. “The only problem is, zombies aren’t real.” Then he was ducking back, hand reaching out to grab yet another tome. Bela mentally reminded herself to convert their small library into some kind of digital format.

 

“Zombies are real.”

 

“Yeah, sure. So are vampires and werewolves.”

 

“Yes and yes.” Jack’s disbelieving face appeared once more. “Cross my heart and hope to die, although I suppose that’s a bit redundant now.”

 

“Bigfoot?”

 

“Sorry, that one’s a man in a gorilla suit with too much time on his hands.” Jack looked disappointed. “Did you just loose a bet?”

 

“No, just always wondered if it’s true what they say about guys with big feet.” Jack chuckled at Bela’s pained groan. “Seriously though, zombies are real?”

 

“Sure,” she smirked. “There are a couple of different types actually. You can get your average voodoo zombie or your Greek resurrection zombie or your Croatoan virus zombie. The whole world was going to be a Croatoan zombie fest if the Winchesters hadn’t been so disgustingly heroic.”

 

“So what you’re saying is that we should be thanking the Winchesters for stopping the zombie apocalypse.”

 

“They had help,” Bela grumbled with a glare at her boss. “It’s not like they could do it on their own.”

 

“Of course not,” Jack said with a smirk before artfully changing the subject. “It couldn’t be zombies though. The graphs thought it had come through the rift.”

 

“It could still be zombies,” Bela said with a shrug. “Where’s the rule that says only alien things can come through rifts in space and time?”

 

“Okay, fine,” Jack conceded. “But really, ‘zombies in Cardiff’? It sounds like bad daytime tv.”

 

Bela was about to reply when she was cut off by a loud beeping coming from the computer off to her side. There was a map onscreen, scrolling in time with a pulsing red dot in the centre. At the top of the screen hundreds of numbers and words flashed up, listing an information stream of speed, time, coordinates and so on.

 

“I think she’s found it,” Bela breathed, staring at the monitor.

 

“You mean you know what it is?” Jack asked, swinging round his desk to come up at her shoulder

 

“Well no, but I think the program managed to pick up the rift residue left on whatever it is.”

 

“Okay,” Jack said, his voice hardening. He had become Captain Jack Harkness again, the military leader of Torchwood. “Set Toshi transmitting and link our nav sets to her. We see what she sees. We’re leaving in five.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a smile, only half mocking him.

 

Everything became a flurry of movement then, both of them trying to live up to Jack's deadline. As soon as Bela had shown her knowledge of all things digital – a skill taken from her previous life – Jack had elected her the official Torchwood techie. Now, whilst Jack loaded the black SUV – a cliché that Bela never stopped laughing at – with their equipment, she set up the Torchwood network.

 

When Jack had first introduced her to the network she had thought it was Christmas come early. Being second only to the secret service – which never bothered with Wales anyway – Torchwood was allowed more than a few all access passes that the public would never know about. One of these was complete control to all network devices within Cardiff city limits and all government satellites, provided that Torchwood didn't breach privacy laws.

 

Of course the government satellites were useless, but what Bela was really interested in was that this loophole allowed her to write a program which could boost the signal of the internal Torchwood network using any routers or transmitting devices in Cardiff. Basically the entire city became Torchwood's computer.

 

Jack had been sceptical at first, refusing to use what he believed was a 'complete breach of privacy' and a ‘major security threat’. Bela had laughed and agreed with him. When the government satellite Jack had been using failed at a particularly crucial moment, he gave in and Bela activated the network.

 

Now, as Jack hurried out to the car with what looked like an RPG, she started up the program again. It had been dubbed ‘the spiderweb’, a name which Bela had protested hotly at first before embracing.

 

“Spiderweb's up,” she called as Jack appeared back through the door.

 

“Good.” The military man pointed to the transportable box of various poisons and anaesthetics which were specific to certain species. “Can you grab that and meet me at the car?”

 

She nodded once and snatched up the box as Jack disappeared somewhere into the headquarters. As she headed for the door she picked up her tablet that was resting on her desk. It was the same one that she had taken with her to Trenzalore and back. Newer models had been released since but something in her – something decidedly human – refused to part with the little device that had seen them through an apocalypse.

 

Outside the sun was just hanging above the city buildings, winter bringing the nights earlier and earlier every day. Patchwork clouds spread across the sky, catching the sun's rays in stunning colours of red, pink and yellow. Bela didn't notice the sunset, too busy throwing the box in the back of the van and slipping into shotgun.

 

A few seconds later Jack climbed in next to her, keys in hand. “Which way?”

 

“Head north towards Cathays.” She tightened her grip on the tablet, watching the pulsing red dot that was their culprit. “Our rift debris still hasn't moved.”

 

“It will soon,” Jack said grimly, slamming down on the accelerator. For a second the tires screeched in protest, then they shot off North, leaving furrowed brows and dark muttering in their wake.

 

\------------


	3. Part Two

Part Two

 

It took 7 minutes, 23 seconds and 42 milliseconds – give or take – to get to the run down building where the rift residue led. Bela had been counting, stomach twisting into nervous knots for some reason she couldn't quite understand. There was something about this case that just seemed off, as though something in her demon DNA was picking up 'bad vibrations'. She almost wanted to laugh at the idea. Almost.

 

“We'll go in from the East,” Jack was saying as they climbed out from the SUV. “Just take a Glock and leave the rest here for if we need it. This should be a quick in and out.”

 

“Whatever you say, sir,” Bela said wryly, remembering the word 'unknown' flashing up next to 'species'.

 

Jack's hand shot out and gripped hers for a second. His skin was hot, adrenaline running a fever over his body. “Bela, don't do anything stupid. We stick together.”

 

For a long moment their eyes met and held. There was something akin to fear in his, the echo of those doom-laden feelings that had her counting minutes on the journey over. Over it all criss-crossed the names of those in the files of the deceased. It was this case, this strange case, getting under their skin with jagged skull fragments and teeth-mark brains.

 

“Yes, sir,” she breathed and this time she wasn't mocking him. His hand dropped from hers, leaving a ring of cold skin that seemed out of place.

 

\------------

 

It was dark inside, light not making it through the few dirt-encrusted windows. It had only taken Jack a moment to smash through the side door security - a huge padlock that was all but rusted away. Now they crept through the abandoned office rooms, rubbish and debris crunching under their feet.

 

Toshi's map led them further into the complex, the red dot moving slowly around in wavering circles. Every corner seemed to hold a shadow as they slipped into the main hanger of the warehouse. It was a huge room, at least a football field in length, filled with crates and stacks of slowly rotting wooden pallets. A few cracks in the roof allowed water to drip down, providing a steady soundtrack to the eerie space.

 

“Well this looks safe,” Bela muttered, ignoring the glare that Jack shot her. “Nothing could possibly go wrong here.”

 

They set off down the closest row, guns constantly searching for a new target. Every now and then they had to pick their way around piles of shattered glass, splintered wood or, a few too many times for Bela's taste, mounds of rancid clothing. She could have sworn one of them moved but Jack didn't seem to notice it so she blamed it on the distinctly _wrong_ feeling that was curling down her spine.

 

Finally they reached a break in the rows of crates that seemed to cut through at about halfway down the hanger. A quick glance at the tablet told Bela the red dot was two rows over from them, just around the corner. With a quick gesture to Jack, they crept along the rows until they were half a metre from the red dot. Carefully Bela slotted the tablet into its pouch in her utility belt and nodded to the military man.

 

“Now!” Jack whispered. They swung around the corner, guns raised, fingers poised on the trigger. At the end of the row was some kind of humanoid shape, lumbering slowly towards the other end of the warehouse. “FREEZE!”

 

Instantly the creature stopped. For a second it seemed confused. Then, slowly, it turned around to face them. As soon as the creature’s eyes met her, Bela's hand shot out to tightly grip Jack's arm. The human stared at the Torchwood agents with bloodshot holes in its ragged white face.

 

Suddenly, it opened its mouth and a harsh shriek scraped out. Bela didn't hesitate. Releasing Jack's arm she took a step forward, emptying her entire clip into the creature. Under the hail of bullets it dropped like a stone, head _thunk_ ing against the concrete floor.

 

“What the Hell was that for?” Jack grabbed Bela's arm and spun her around to face him. “We don't know what that thing was going to do.”

 

Calmly she pulled away from him, heart beat slowing as she walked over to the corpse. “Remember when I told you about Croatoan zombies?”

 

“Yes,” Jack's voice sounded wary and Bela was sure he knew what she was about to say.

 

“Well here's my proof.” Wincing as blood smeared across her boot, she nudged the creature onto its back with one foot, gun still cradled safely in her hands. “See, red eyes, classic Croatoan symptom.”

 

Jack came up beside her, a grim look on his face. “Why is it here?” Silently Bela marvelled at the ease at which he accepted they were looking at a zombie. “Was this what came through the rift?”

 

“It could have been.” Finally she let her hands fall to her sides, gun settled lightly in her right. “Probably fell through, found itself peckish and decided a little human would be nice.”

 

She shifted her gaze up to Jack's face, a thin smile stretching on her face. “Good thing it won’t be eating anymore.”

 

He met her gaze squarely. “It’s done enough dam- LOOK OUT!” The shout echoed around them as Jack shoved Bela to the side, raising his gun. She lurched into a stack of wooden pallets, sending them crashing down into the row next to them. Managing to keep her balance, she turned to follow Jack’s gaze as he started shooting.

 

The end of the row was blocked by hundreds of red-eyed humans and then Bela knew why she had seen those piles of clothing move. The gunshots seemed to jerk them into action and the creatures started sprinting down the row towards them, moving with inhuman speed.

 

A few of them stumbled and fell as Jack’s bullets reached them. The shots sunk into their legs, hurting the creatures but not killing them. Making sure they couldn’t do any harm but not murdering the humans they were in.

 

“Jack!” Bela screamed but he didn't seem to hear her. Swearing under her breath, Bela surged forward and grabbed his coat, pulling him over to the hole left where she had knocked the pallets over. “Come on!”

 

This time he heard her, quickly finding his feet and darting after her. They headed down towards the end of the row, running parallel to the Croatoan creatures. It wasn't hard to hear them, feet slapping against the concrete, then the sound of panted breath as they followed the agents through the gap.

 

Neither of them dared to look back, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. A second later they burst out from the row of crates, just in time to see more red-eyes pouring out on either side of them. They didn't hesitate, throwing themselves towards the door at the end of the hanger.

 

Without thinking, Bela took the lead as they charged through. Racing from office to office, they followed the mental map in her head towards the side door that they had left swinging on its hinges. Behind her the feet followed, footsteps melding into a constant thundering sound.

 

They rounded the corner and suddenly she could see the outside world through the open door. Just then Jack let out a yell. Spinning around, Bela found him on the ground. One zombie had been slightly faster than the rest.

 

“Jack!” Her scream was as useless as the gun in her hands, magazine empty. Even though her mind was a few seconds too slow, her body wasn't. Smoothly she shifted into a boxer's stance. Taking a step forward, she whipped her leg up and around, the roundhouse kick sending the creature crashing into a desk.

 

“Run!” Jack yelled as he surged to his feet. His hand grabbed hers, all but pulling her along, the wall of Croatoan humans a metre behind. As they sprinted through the door, Jack swung a leg round, slamming it closed behind them. “Come on!”

 

Bodies crashed up against the metal and it groaned heavily. They didn't stop running, heading for the SUV waiting for them a few metres away. It wasn't until they got to the vehicle that Jack let go of Bela's hand. Quickly she flung open the passenger door as behind her the rusted metal hinges gave way and the zombies tumbled out into the courtyard.

 

“Get in.” Jack was waiting already inside the car, keys in the ignition, gesturing at her urgently. Somehow she managed to make her legs work, clambering into the SUV and slamming the door shut. Tires squealing, they sped away, the dull thud of a zombie hitting the car the only indication of just how close it had been.

 

“So you weren't pulling my leg then.” Jack said with a calmness that made Bela want to punch and hug him at the same time. “Zombies in Cardiff.”

 

For a second they were both silent, staring ahead out of the windscreen. Then their eyes met and adrenaline caught up with them. Jack let a smile appear first; Bela close behind with what could have been described as a giggle.

 

“Zombies in Cardiff,” Jack repeated, struggling to drive straight through choked laughter. “It's so terrible.”

 

“We shouldn't be laughing at this, you know,” Bela spluttered. “It's serious business. They could take over.”

 

It took them five minutes of laughing and driving – but mostly laughing – until they finally sobered. They were still running on adrenaline but it had loosened its hold enough for the two of them to realise, _fuck_ , _zombies_.

 

“Can you give me a crash course in Croatoan zombies?” Jack asked darkly, the mirth sapped from his voice. “We need to know how to stop them.”

 

“I don’t know much,” Bela replied, trying not to flinch as she turned to memories of when the plans of those at the top were whispered as rumours among those who still screamed daily. “Croatoan was a virus used to wipe out a couple of hundred settlers in 1590. Satan and his inner circle decided to bring it back for the 2010 Apocalypse.

 

“Once a human gets the virus, it attacks the Limbic system, basically returning the victim to instincts and unleashing any violence they might have lurking behind emotion control. The virus itself is transmitted through fluid exchange, hence the zombie tradition of biting. Basically, a zombie munches on you and you’ll go from Mr. Rogers to Hannibal Lecter, just without the MD.”

 

“Good to know. So, how do we stop it?”

 

“What makes you think I know?” The burst of anger came without warning and Bela felt instantly guilty at the look on Jack’s face. She softened her voice as she continued. “This was part of the devil’s apocalypse. The cure – if there is one – wasn’t exactly common knowledge to us lowly foot soldiers.”

 

“So we have nothing to go on?” Jack didn’t mention her outburst, just pushed it into the archive of the moments when she still came from Hell. “No way to stop them?”

 

“Well, not nothing.” She said the words before she was actually sure exactly what she was talking about. “Those victims we saw in the morgue, they had their brains eaten.”

 

“Yes,” Jack gave her a patient look. “That’s what zombies do.”

 

“Not these ones.” She reached for her tablet, silently thanking whoever may be watching that the device hadn’t been broken in their 200m zombie sprint. Fingers dancing across the screen, she pulled up the Cardiff police database. “I knew it, look!” She thrust the tablet to Jack, a satisfied smirk automatically appearing on her face.

 

“Really?” Jack took his eyes off the road for just long enough to give Bela a pointed look. “I don’t want to have survived zombie attacks only to die in a car accident.”

 

“Right.” Pulling the tablet back, she starting spinning through its contents. “Since last night the police have reported over 20 extremely violent homicides. All the victims appeared to have been mauled by a person as they did manage to find human traces on the bodies. That’s classic zombie behaviour.

 

“As well as that, the missing persons hotline has recorded double the number of reports they usually handle although nearly all of those claimed to be missing were seen sometime yesterday around late evening.”

 

Jack was nodding slowly as she reeled off the statistics. “So you think the violent deaths were zombie attacks and the missing persons-”

 

“Were among the welcoming committee at the warehouse,” Bela finished. “It’s not normal Croatoan behaviour to eat the brains of victims so I think-”

 

“They were purposely targeted,” Jack interrupted in the awed whisper of a realisation. “They had to be completely dead-“

 

“And not undead.”

 

“But that would mean...” He trailed off then turned to look at Bela, eyes wide.

 

“Someone is controlling them,” they said simultaneously.

 

“But who?” Jack asked, neither of them lingering on their disgustingly cheesy synchronised exclamation. “Who would be able to control mindless Croatoan zombies?”

 

Bela’s mind instantly went to Hell’s elite, the inner circle of the Satan’s purest evil. “There’s too many,” she said with a shrug, smiling slightly at Jack’s surprise. “It’s a virus made in Hell. There are plenty of demons with enough juice to alter it.”

 

“Then were does that leave us?” Jack wondered aloud as they drove along the waterfront.

 

“With the victims,” Bela said, lips twisting into a grimace. They knew what was going on, or at least it seemed like they knew. They just couldn’t pin down the who or the why. All they had was a morgue full of bodies, zombies pouring from a warehouse and no way to stop them.

 

“The victims!” Jack smacked the wheel, making Bela jump and she sent him a glare that went unnoticed. “We need to find out who the victims are; work out why someone would want to kill them. If we work out the why-”

 

“We can figure out the who.” The glare morphed into a grin. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to trace the why back to one of Hell’s finest.”

 

“In that case we’re going to need help,” Jack said as they turned into the secret entrance to the Torchwood Headquarters.

 

It was a brick wall that simply fell into the ground when Jack pressed a button on what amounted to the secret Torchwood garage opener. Bela was sure that someone would have noticed an entire wall falling into the ground but for some reason people’s eyes seemed to glide over the spot as if it wasn’t exactly _there_. Whenever she asked just about it, Jack just gave an extremely frustrating smirk that said ‘ _I know something you don’t know’_.

 

“Can’t Toshi run the victims to find a connection?”

 

“Maybe with only a few victims but we don’t have the software to run this many and it would take too long to program something. For this, we’re going to need a specialist.”

 

“Who?” Jack smirked and it said _‘I know something you don’t know’_.

 

\------------


	4. Part Three

Part Three

 

Bela’s head was still buzzing when the door rolled back and they slipped into the headquarters. Adrenaline residue was pumping through her body, not quite ready to relent yet. It was probably thanks to those left-over sparks that she was able to draw on the shadow in the corner so quickly.

 

“Identify yourself.” Jack was beside her in an instant, posture mirroring hers.

 

“Just an old friend,” came the reply in a strange British accent. Gaze staying unwaveringly fixed on the intruder, Bela reached over and flipped the light on. There was a narrow-faced, dark-eyed man sitting in Bela’s chair wearing a very expensive looking suit.

 

“Moriarty,” Jack hissed immediately, eyes narrowing to tight slits. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

 

The man chuckled humourlessly and Bela was sure that she had heard that laugh before, those mocking inflections. With a smirk he plucked at his blazer. “Yes, that’s what this meat-suit was called, and he was as good as dead.”

 

“Crowley,” Bela said with calm recognition and this time it was her eyes that narrowed. “Why are you here?”

 

The demon stood up and slowly wandered over to pour himself a drink from Jack’s not-so-secret secret stash. He looked strange in the new body and it was then that Bela realised just how distanced she had become from the demon world. Usually she would recognise another demon. Usually she would see the festering flesh under the false skin. Not anymore.

 

“Feeling a little too human?” Crowley asked, perfectly reading her thoughts. “Still trying to decide whether you fit in or not?” Beside her, Jack tensed, ready to come to her defense. Bela didn’t let him, raising a hand to hold the silence. She gritted her teeth and tried not to think about what Crowley was saying.

 

The problem was that she thought about it all the time. Every now and then she would feel it, the rippling desire for destruction, the need to watch something – someone – die. It would come with red-wash memories of Hell, searing flesh and snapping bone; the wet sound of skin slapping against the ground.

 

She couldn’t stop thinking about that moment when she had finally screamed ‘enough’ and given in to their ultimatum. Couldn’t stop thinking about the first time she looked in the mirror and saw black eyes staring back. She was a demon, not a human. She might have her old body back but it was still as fake as her name.

 

“Crowley, _go_.” Bela was surprised it had taken that long for Jack to ignore her unspoken request for his silence. “I don’t know what game you’re playing but Bela stays here.”

 

Crowley smirked. His new body fell into it easily, as if it were made to taunt with just the curve of his lips. “I think we should leave this one up to the lady.” He shrugged lightly, head tilting to the side as if his body was disjointed. “What's it going to be, Bela?”

 

“Get out.” She barely remembered saying the words but she wouldn't be able to forget the venom in them. Even Jack glanced at her nervously. Anger clouded her mind, reminding her of the fury of a demon but this felt too close to human to be the vestiges of something supernatural. “Get out now.”

 

For a second it seemed like Crowley would be too surprised to move. Then there was the soft rustle of clothing and he was gone. Without the king of Hell, the room suddenly seemed a lot bigger. A hand brushed along Bela's arm, coming to rest on her shoulder.

 

“What was that about?” Jack seemed genuinely confused and suddenly, for one strange moment, Bela hated him. “Why wouldn’t you fit in here?”

 

Bela’s thoughts tumbled into a tangled mess, human emotions melting into images of Hell and blood splattering hot on her skin. All those walls of humanity she had been building fell like children’s blocks. That thing, that demon part of her sent bugs crawling under her meat-suit’s skin.

 

“Why do you think?” Hatred for him, the man who found it so easy to be human, filled her mind with smoke, erupting in volcanic spurts of anger. “I know it’s easy to forget when you’re playing house but I’m Hellspawn. The whole baby-eating demons, damned to Hell, Bible as the word of God ringing any bells?”

 

“You’re human enough to belong here,” Jack said with his token calmness that did nothing but fuel Bela’s rage. Somewhere in the back of her mind she laughed at how much easier it was to be angry, to raise a defense instead of letting her real emotions filter through.

 

“It’s easier to think like that, isn’t it?” She whirled around to look at him, pulling away from his hands, mouth twisted in uncontrollable fury. “It’s easy to see a human instead of a dead body stopped from rotting by the scum of Hell inside. It’s so much nicer to pretend I’m human rather than think about how I would kill every last one of you.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Jack reached out again, grabbing her shoulders and digging his fingers in until she couldn’t pull away. “Listen to me! It doesn’t matter because I trust you and you've been saving hundreds of people.”

 

He leaned forward, locking their eyes until Jack was all that was left in Bela’s world. “It doesn’t matter that you’re not human. You can still belong on Earth.” His fingers loosened their grip and he slid a hand up to rest lightly on her neck, letting their foreheads fall together.

 

Bela could feel his breathe ghosting across her skin and she had never been so confused. As much as she wanted to push him away, she wanted him to stay there forever, keep that contact between human and demon as if it could be salvation.

 

“It doesn’t matter because I trust you and you've saved me more times that I will ever admit.”

 

It was impossible to stop a smile then and suddenly all Bela could think was how they had melded together, the joker and the thief. How they had fitted together with sharp words and easy smiles until she couldn’t imagine, couldn’t fathom, the world without this military man and his records of the dead.

 

She thought then that maybe, just maybe, she could love Captain Jack Harkness. Maybe she did love him and Bela had never felt so human.

 

It was a revelation to be lingered upon, the plot-twist in a murder mystery. All she wanted was to hide somewhere far away from this man who could control her emotions with a smile but she couldn’t. People were dying. Cardiff needed saving. If they didn’t save it, who would?

 

“Okay,” she whispered. Mustering all her will power she pulled away from her boss, meeting his gaze as steadily as she dared. “Then I guess we have some zombies to hunt, sir.”

 

“That’s my girl,” Jack said with a wink.

 

“Oh, I am so not your girl.”

 

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.” Jack smirked then snagged the phone from its charger. “Well if we’re zombie hunting then there’s someone we need to call first.”

 

Bela moved around so she could peer over his shoulder at the number he was dialling. “Ooo, your mystery contact. A London number, how interesting.”

 

“Here you go!” Jack finished keying in the number, pressed the call button and promptly shoved the phone into Bela’s hand. “Good luck!”

 

“I- _what_?” She half-shrieked, chasing after Jack as he darted off around a desk. “Captain Jack Harkness, get back here! We can’t be playing games when there’s a zombie apocalypse.”

 

“If you can’t play around during zombie apocalypses, when can you?”

 

It wasn’t until Bela had chased her boss halfway down the stairs that she realised the phone was still ringing. Lifting it to her ear, she was just in time to hear a click then –

 

“Hello?” The voice was male, tight and trimmed, almost like Jack’s but with a British accent.

 

“Hi,” Bela said, trying not to make her voice sound too sickly sweet. Jack appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a grin plastered across his face. “This is Bela Talbot from Torchwood.”

 

“Oh, hello Torchwood,” the voice said, slightly more cheerfully. “It’s been a long time since we last heard from you. Jack’s been recruiting has he?”

 

“You could say that,” Bela replied, wincing awkwardly. “It’s a pleasure to talk to you.”

 

“He gave you the phone and then ran away, didn’t he?”

 

“How did you...”

 

“He does that a lot,” the voice said with a chuckle. “I think he’s hoping one of these days Sherlock will actually answer the phone. I’m John Watson, by the way.”

 

“John Watson.” The name was familiar, something she had seen in the news about... hats? Then it clicked. “John and Sherlock as in Holmes and Watson? As in London’s finest detectives?”

 

She could remember them easily now, plastered across the front page of every British news website. It was the revival of the century; a resurrection to challenge Jesus, some particularly excited people had said. ‘Real Detective, Fake Suicide’ had been the headline and the story described the new evidence against a consulting criminal.

 

Torchwood’s duo had still been in Sydney at the time but even in Australia the newspapers printed the picture of a grinning army doctor and a tall man beside him. When she had showed him, Jack had given one of his secret smiles and muttered ‘ _about time’._

 

After a few days Bela had stopped following the story, distracted by planets beyond Pluto but she never forgot the frozen smile on John Watson’s face as he looked up at the tall man. It would never be lost, forever captured in black and white.

 

There was a pause and Bela could practically hear John standing a little straighter. “Well, yes. How can we help Torchwood?”

 

“We need your help with...” She trailed off, trying to figure out how to explain zombies in Cardiff. “The thing is... see what’s happening is...”

 

With raised eyebrows Jack held out his hand for the phone. She quickly handed it over, trying not to look too grateful. Holding the receiver between them, Jack pushed the speaker button on the handset.

 

“Hi John, it’s Jack.”

 

“It’s good to hear from you again.”

 

“You too. How are you and Sherlock?”

 

“It’s all as normal as it ever will be,” came the wry reply. “Do you want him listening?”

 

“If it’s not too much trouble.” The two of them laughed at something Bela didn’t understand yet.

 

“Sherlock!” John call’s came over the phone distantly. “Jack needs our help.”

 

“Jack who?” came the muffled reply. The voice was sharp and distinct and Bela could instantly place it on the tall man from the picture.

 

“Captain Jack Harkness,” John said patiently. “Torchwood needs our help.”

 

“Torchwood?” There was a layer of scorn in Sherlock’s voice so thick Bela couldn’t decide whether it was serious or not. She glanced over at Jack but the military man was grinning widely at the phone. “I’m busy.”

 

“No you’re no- he’s not busy,” John spluttered. “Of course we will help you, Jack, won’t we Sherlock?” Bela was distinctly reminded of a parent telling off their child.

 

“Fine.” Sherlock’s faint mutter was almost lost in the slight static of the phone line. “What do you need help with and speak quickly.”

 

“There’s a virus called Croatoan going through Cardiff,” Jack started.

 

“Boring!” Sherlock interrupted. For a second the line fell quiet and Bela could just make out muffled words until it returned.

 

“What kind of virus?” John spoke this time, genuine interest in his voice.

 

“It attacks the limbic system,” Jack replied, not mentioning Sherlock’s outburst. “We’ve seen the damage. Think bad zombie movie.”

 

“How many infected?”

 

“Too many. Maybe 30 or 40.”

 

“Why do you need our help?” Jack looked to Bela at the question and she took the cue to jump in.

 

“It’s quite literally the virus from Hell. It was crafted so that those who got infected would be as violent as possible when they came across someone but quickly lose interest once they were dead or infected.

 

“However this time we’ve been noticing there are a number of victims who’ve had their brains specifically removed. We think that one of Hell’s elite has altered the virus, allowing the zombies to be controlled. The brainless were targets.”

 

It wasn’t until Bela fell silent that she considered maybe the detective and the army doctor didn’t know about the host of Heaven and Hell. She glanced at Jack but the military man’s gaze was still fixed on the phone. On the other end of the line there was a moment’s hesitation.

 

“Send over the names of the victims,” Sherlock said finally.

 

“Sorry, what?” Bela gave the phone a suspicious glance. “How did you-”

 

“I’m the world’s only consulting detective and you obviously aren’t calling for John’s help.”

 

“Thank you, Sherlock,” John muttered.

 

“You seem to know what’s going on so you don’t need help with that. The Torchwood access will get you all the information you need so you clearly can’t figure out the connection and that’s what you need me for.”

 

Bela turned her permanent glare from the phone to where Jack was standing, trying not to choke on suppressed laughter. Carefully she considered the consequences of punching him.

 

“Just ignore Sherlock,” John said, coming to the rescue. “He likes to show off. Send us the information and we’ll do what we can. After we know the connection, we’ll head over to you.”

 

“Thanks,” Jack managed to choke out. “We’ll take care of the infected.”

 

“Get a blood sample from one of the infected,” Sherlock broke in. “I can make a cure for the virus.”

 

Bela couldn’t hold back the scorn in her voice. “You think you can make a cure for the virus made for Satan’s apocalypse by looking at a zombie’s blood sample.”

 

“Jack, you should fire her.”

 

“Hey, listen up Detective Assh -“

 

“Okay, that’s enough,” John quickly interrupted. “Jack?”

 

“It’s probably a good idea,” the military man replied. He shot Bela a half-amused, half-sympathetic glance and picked up the phone, taking it off speaker. “What are you thinking?”

 

There was a pause and Bela could hear the hissing ends of the ‘s’s in John’s voice as she fumed quietly.

 

“Okay call us if you get anything,.”

 

Pause and more ‘s’s.

 

“Sure. Also, John,” Jack hesitated for a moment. “You might see Moriarty around. It’s not him.” Pause. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s a demon called Crowley.”

 

‘S’s.

 

“No, don’t go near him. I just wanted you to know in case you come across him. Just don’t think that he’s back.”

 

Pause.

 

“Okay. You too.”

 

“I am not working with Sherlock-bloody-Holmes,” Bela said bluntly as Jack hung up the phone. “His ego is big enough to challenge Dean Winchester’s.”

 

“Nice,” Jack said appreciative glance. “You’ll just have to deal with it though. Like it or not, he’s the best chance we’ve got.”

 

“Yeah, and he’ll just have to deal with my fist in his face.”

 

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry.”

 

“Don’t make me practise on you.” Bela let a smile cross her lips for a moment. “So what now?”

 

“John is going to call us back as soon as they have something and they’ll be in Cardiff in two hours or so.”

 

“Only two hours? That’s fast.”

 

“For some reason Sherlock’s decided he’s going to drive.” Jack shook his head ruefully. "Either it’s going to take them two hours or they’ll never make it at all. Until then, we prepare for another apocalypse.”

 

\------------


	5. Part Four

Part Four

 

As it happened, Cardiff was well prepared for a virus outbreak and, Bela figured, that was close enough to ‘Croatoan Zombie Apocalypse’. All she needed was a password and Toshi sent alerts to a pre-determined list of significant parties. In 15 minutes Cardiff was, for all intents and purposes, a no-go zone. At the same time, a pre-recorded ‘public safety’ message was broadcast across every channel, interrupting a particularly suspenseful episode of ‘The Walking Dead’.

 

“Won’t this cause a panic?” Bela had asked when Jack had first explained the system to her. “Or they’ll just ignore it.”

 

“You’re forgetting about all the rift activity,” Jack replied with a small smile. “Public safety messages happen once a fortnight in Cardiff. I send them out every time there’s a particularly nasty alien loose. People have learned to listen by now.”

 

Once the broadcasts were on their way to the media outlets, Bela turned to Toshi’s tracking programs. It took a good ten minutes but she managed to calibrate the program so it would pick up on any large zombie populations near its radar. The radar itself was, rather fortunately, as portable as radars could come.

 

“It’s a zombie detector,” Bela said with a touch of pride in her voice as she showed Jack the program on her tablet. “It’ll be able to tell us if there are any zombies nearby.”

 

“I knew I brought you on for a reason other than your good looks,” Jack said with a cheeky smile.

 

“I’m good in apocalypses,” she replied with a wink.

 

Whilst the thief had been re-programming Toshi, the joker had been preparing what could only be described as their arsenal. Each of them had their own hand gun, a semi-automatic and enough ammo to take down an army – although Bela was hoping they wouldn’t have to. New rules had been decided by Jack that they weren’t allowed to kill zombies, just wound them, and even then only if it was absolutely necessary. Bela had glared sullenly at him but eventually agreed.

 

\------------

 

Half an hour after their conversation, the phone rang again. Jack gave Bela a doubtful look, as she tried to look as innocent as possible. He picked up the phone and carefully avoided the ‘speaker’ button.

 

“Hello?”

 

There was a short pause of ‘s’s

 

“What have you got?”

 

Longer pause. ‘s’s.

 

“O-okay. Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.” Jack’s face was grim as he put the phone back in its cradle and flipped the speaker on. “Can you say that again, John?”

 

“All the victims were members of the Church of Satan.” The army doctor’s voice came over the line crackly, a car engine rumbling in the background. “It’s the lesser known Cardiff branch so the police probably won’t know it but it’s the only connection we can find.”

 

“How do you know?” Bela’s voice came out hoarse and unsteady, her throat tightening as something strangely akin to fear crept into her thoughts. “How can you be sure? Where’s your proof?”

 

“Our proof-” John’s voice was cut off by static and the sound of a scuffle. “You can just ask – keep your eyes on the road! Damn it Sherlock!”

 

“Oh be quiet, John.” The static sound of distant wind cut behind the detective’s voice. “Miss Talbot; all the victims were younger than 30, single and none of them had jobs that paid more than £9.00 an hour. 13 of them had been arrested for petty crimes and the other 11 had been involved in investigations.

 

“Their houses are all within a five mile radius of a known satanic coven and all of them took holidays coinciding with a festival for Satan. 52% of them had some kind of satanic paraphernalia on them at the time of their death although the police were too stupid to make the connection. They were all Satanists, Miss Talbot.”

 

Bela’s thoughts refused to stand still, whipping a tornado in her mind as she connected the dots. Vaguely she thought the ground might be falling out from under her.

 

“Bela?” It wasn’t until Jack’s hands covered her that she realised how tightly she was gripping her gun and instantly let go. There was nothing to shoot, not here. “What is it?”

 

“24 of the father’s soldiers and one of his sons,” she whispered, fingers twisting in with his as they fled from her cold metal lifeline. “Split the world to bring the Hellfire ones.”

 

“Poetry won’t help us –”

 

“It’s a ritual,” Bela hissed at Sherlock, her eyes not leaving Jack’s “Do as it says and you can call back the four horsemen. Without Lucifer to control them, they’ll rip the world apart before the zombies can. They’re just the pawns doing the work.”

 

“How do you know this?” Sherlock sounded like he didn’t believe her but he probably didn’t believe anyone who knew something he didn’t.

 

“Sunday school in Hell,” Bela replied, gripping Jack’s hands tighter. “The followers are already dead. All they need is Satan’s son.”

 

“Who’s that?” The military man asked. “Last time I checked, the devil didn’t have a son.”

 

“The King of Hell,” she gasped, only just realising it herself. “Like father, like son.”

 

“Crowley.” Jack’s face darkened. “They need to kill Crowley and then...”

 

“Split the Earth.”

 

“Well, surely that can’t be too easy,” John’s voice came over the phone. Bela hesitated for a moment, letting faces flash through her head like the line-up of Heaven’s most wanted.

 

“No one I can think of has the juice,” she admitted. “They don’t have to split the Earth, just make a big enough hole, but Lucifer’s the only one with that sort of power.”

 

It seemed all of them relaxed then, exhaling breath that had long gone stay. Momentary relief cooled the fever of fear. The clench of her fingers eased and she felt cold air slink into the gap. Then Jack’s fingers tightened on hers.

 

“The rift,” he whispered with a horrified expression on his face. “They didn’t choose Cardiff for the church of Satan. They’re going to-”

 

“Use the rift as a weak point,” Bela finished and everything clicked into place. “But that’s going to-”

 

“Split the fabric of time,” Sherlock broke in, earning the phone a surprised look. “The horsemen won’t end the world. It will be-”

 

“Time ripping apart,” the trio chorused and somewhere in the back of her mind, Bela thought the doctor would be proud.

 

“Right,” John said into the ensuing silence. “How do we stop it?”

 

“As much as I hate to say it,” Jack sighed. “We’re going to have to talk to Crowley.”

 

\------------

 

Torchwood was almost as prepared for a demon-summoning as it was for a zombie apocalypse. Bela found herself vaguely disturbed at how many of the gruesome ingredients Jack seemed to have hidden in the head-quarters’ many dark storage rooms. The military man just winked at her surprise and elected not to give an explanation.

 

Anything else they couldn’t find was available at the dairy – the entire purchase carried out through a post-box size slot – or the butchers – the owner was not pleased to be torn away from his dinner. Everywhere Cardiff was shut down, stores either closed or conducting business through slits like the dairy. Even the restaurants and bars were closed although it was a Saturday night.

 

Once they had everything it was only a matter of saying the words and mixing everything in the right order. With a slight pop, Crowley’s new body appeared in the pentagram Jack had drawn under Bela’s careful instruction. In his hand was a rather large knife and on his feet were a pair of rather fluffy bunny-rabbit slippers. As soon as the demon saw the two Torchwood agents he sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

 

“That was impeccably bad timing,” Crowley drawled, twirling the knife between his fingers idly. “I was just in the middle of something important.”

 

“Apparently,” Bela said coolly. “Nice slippers.”

 

“Belonged to a-”

 

“I don’t want to know,” Jack interrupted quickly.

 

“Another time then.” Crowley glanced down at the pentagram, eyebrows raised. “Is that really necessary?”

 

“Better safe than screwed,” Bela smirked. “What do you know about the Croatoan virus?”

 

“So you’ve picked up on that?” The knife stopped twirling. “A little fun never hurt a demon.”

 

“But it is hurting humans.” Jack tilted his head back slightly, hands slipping easily into his trouser pockets. “The virus is being used to cover-up a number of deaths; 24 members of the church of Satan.”

 

“I’ll shed a tear for them later. What’s your the point?”

 

“Someone is trying to summon the horsemen,” Bela stepped in. “The zombies took out the followers already so you’re next on the menu, being as you’re closest to our father who art in Hell.”

 

Crowley’s sharp eyes flicked back and forth between them, looking for a lie. Carefully he tucked the knife into one of his blazer pockets and clasped his hands.

 

“So who’s trying to kill me then?” Bela exchanged a glance with Jack.

 

“We don’t know yet,” she confessed. “We just thought you might want to know you’ve got a target on your back.”

 

“Yes, well, thank you.” He gestured to the pentagram. “If you wouldn’t mind?” Jack looked over to Bela and she shrugged.

 

“He can look after himself.”

 

“You remember?” Jack winced and hurriedly scratched out a corner of the pentagram with his own knife. Crowley stretched his head sharply to the side with a loud pop before stepping forward. “Thank you, Captain Jack Harkness.” He turned to Bela, a disturbing smile on his pale face. “Always a pleasure. Don’t forget my offer.”

 

He turned as if to leave by the door, paused and spun back to the other demon. “By the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your belt is beeping. ‘Bye.” The last word was drawn out, light and chillingly cheerful. Then the king of Hell was gone. 


	6. Part Five

Part Five

 

It took Bela a second to process what Crowley had just said. Then she heard it too. There was a steady beeping coming from the little pouch where she kept her tablet. Fingers fumbling with the zip, she managed to pull the device out. On screen the zombie radar program was still running.

 

In the centre of the screen were two green dots, Bela and Jack, surrounded by the black mass of the Torchwood headquarters. Just inside the radar’s coverage was a group of red dots. They were moving fast and heading straight for them.

 

“Bela?” Jack’s question was more of a command than anything, his face drawn tight with worry. “What is it?”

 

“Zombies, heading this way and fast.” She swallowed heavily. “Please tell me you shut the door behind you.”

 

Silence. Jack broke it, a shocked look on his face. “Shit.”

 

Then they were moving, perfectly in sync with each other, sprinting off up the stairs. They hit the winding corridors of Torchwood without missing a step. Jack had been loading the SUV in the courtyard out the back of the building through a gate that essentially served as Torchwood’s back door. With it still open, the zombies could be in the headquarters in seconds.

 

Bela shoved the tablet back into her belt and pulled out her Glock. Jack matched her movement, both of them sending their guns around corners first. Corner after corner spun by. Up the stairs and through a storage room. Just as they were about to take the last turn, the electricity sparked and died. There was a pause then a blaring alarm shrieked through the building, accompanied by flashing red lights.

 

‘ **Proximity alert. Breach on ground level. Lockdown in 10**.’

 

“Move!” Jack grabbed Bela’s arm and yanked her through a door to the left. “Come on! We’ll have to take another exit.”

 

They pelted across rooms and down corridors, leaping down a short flight of stairs in one stride. They turned the corner as one. At the end of a passage was a rectangle of lamp-lit night, a huge concrete slab falling down across it.

 

‘ **5** ,’ the alarm laughed. Bela sprinted towards the lowering door, legs screaming with exertion.

 

‘ **4**.’ She was five metres out. The gap was below shoulder-height.

 

‘ **3**.’ Through the small glass window of the door she could see the stars dotted across the black sky.

 

‘ **2**.’ With a metre left she dropped to the ground and skidded along the dusty metal floor.

 

‘ **1**.’ Just in time, she slid under the door, feeling the concrete brush against her forehead.

 

‘ **Lockdown complete**.’ The alarm shut off and Bela lay gasping on the concrete outside the building, arms grazed where they had scraped across the ground. Slowly she clambered to her feet, looking around for Jack. He wasn’t beside her. There was a heavy thud as something hit the door behind her. Through the window Bela could see the military man staring back at her.

 

“Jack!” He trudged over to the window at her shout. For a moment Bela had the sudden urge to press her hand against the glass but it quickly faded, replaced by desperation. “Open the gate!”

 

“I can’t.” Jack’s voice came through the door muffled, barely audible. “The lockdown won’t end until the zombies are dead, gone or controlled.”

 

“You-” Bela’s voice caught in her throat and she flung herself furiously at the door, smashing fists and feet against the concrete. “Your stupid fucking system!”

 

“Get out of here.” Jack’s voice was unshakably calm again. “Go and get help.” It wasn’t hard to hear what was behind his words. He might be invincible but neither of them knew what would happen if he got infected. “Meet up with Sherlock. He’ll make a cure.”

 

“I can’t,” Bela muttered. “I won’t.” She took a deep breath and pushed the tremble from her voice. “I’m not leaving you.”

 

“Go!”

 

“I can get you out of th-” The words caught in her throat. Inside the building the alarm had shut off but the lights were still flashing. At the end of the corridor, bathed in red, she thought she saw the shadow of a human. It was just a glimpse over Jack’s shoulder, outlined in red. The light flashed again. It was a zombie, staring down the corridor at the pair.

 

“What...?” Jack followed her gaze and saw the creature in the next flash of light. Then the corridor was black. Another burst of light and the zombie was charging towards them. Instantly Jack pulled out his revolver and Bela made her decision.

 

Spinning out of sight, she dropped to her knees. Taking a deep breath she threw her head back. For a moment she struggled to rip her demon soul away from her meatsuit, the black tendrils so deeply imbedded in the flesh. Then she was peeling away. A pillar of smoke exploded from her body.

 

It had been a long time, years, since she had last been out of her meatsuit. It took her a few precious seconds to calibrate. The world was muffled in grey mist, anything solid showed up as nothing more than black shadows. Living bodies were outlined in glowing colours, like neon lights beyond condensation windows. Human bodies glowed green, demons red, angels white.

 

Most demons could see the colours in their meatsuits anyway but somewhere along the way, at some point while learning to be human, Bela had stopped looking at the world through demon eyes.

 

Now she could see it all. Quickly she slipped through the tiny gap between wall and door and into the building. She could see the zombie racing down the corridor, its outline only sparks of green choking under the red coughed forth from its pores. Jack was a strangely thick, dark green, almost black.

 

Bela didn’t dwell on the colours, just threw herself at the zombie. They met two metres from Jack. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, easy to trickle into the zombie’s body and overwhelm its placid mind. For a moment its thoughts captivated her, full of distorted, kaleidoscopic images dripping like melted wax. Then she was in control.

 

Instantly she threw up her arms and forced the zombie’s raw vocal chords to work. “Jack, it’s me.”

 

The military man instantly lowered his gun. “Bela?”

 

Suddenly the demon was acutely aware that her friend had never seen her in smoke form, had never seen her slip on a human body as easily as thumbing back the safety. She hadn’t reminded him that she could strip a human of control over their body. A fear Bela had never felt before surged through her in waves of heat.

 

“No, it’s God,” she snapped, defensive words coming as easily as they had come in her human life.

 

“You were the smoke?” Bela gave a short nod, rolling her shoulders uncomfortably. “Neat trick. Remind me to ask you how that works some time.”

 

“You’re not bothered by it?” The question sounded pathetic and Bela regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. “I just mean that most people run screaming.”

 

“Well then that’s another thing we have in common,” Jack replied with a smile and Bela’s thoughts went to all the bullets and blades that couldn’t keep the military man dead. Jack’s words were followed by a screeching roar, echoing from somewhere in the building. Urgency jolting through her, Bela darted over to the door’s control pad.

 

It was a simple terminal for entering a code to open the door. With the lockdown in place the pad had simply shut down, the buttons and screen completely dead. The only way to open the door now was to get rid of the zombies or get in behind the control pad and short-circuit the system somehow. Bela tried not to wince. She could do this, in theory.

 

Pushing doubt from her mind, she glanced around and quickly spotted a scalpel in one of the rooms attached to the corridor. The small space was filled with medical supplies for some reason that Bela decided not to ponder upon. Snatching the scalpel, she turned her attention back to the pad.

 

It was easy enough to lever the casing off the terminal and remove the screws below, pulling the face of the panel away from the wall.

 

“You’re going to open the gate with _that_?” Behind the panel was what looked like a multi-coloured mass of spaghetti, wires shoved in haphazardly in a way that was clearly meant to confuse anyone who didn’t have a rather high IQ.

 

“I’m just that good,” Bela replied, resisting the urge to cross her fingers. Carefully she started grouping the similar coloured wires together, trying to remember what little she had learnt about re-wiring code-locked doors.

 

Scalpel in hand, she stripped the sheaths off one wire of every colour. The yellow wire was the one she needed, that much she could remember. Now spark the yellow against the red... or was it blue? Since when were there purple wires? Bela couldn’t stop a grim smile. Zombies in Cardiff and she was choosing between the red wire and the blue.

 

“Fuck it.” Holding her breath, she shoved all the wires together.

 

Jack’s nervous ‘what?’ was lost in the storm of sparks and a thumping groan as the door sprung up from the ground and slammed into the ceiling. Bela coughed at the acid stench of burning plastic, grinning at the open door.

 

“Wow,” she pulled her body to its slightly shaky feet. “I really am just that good.”

 

“Don’t get cocky, kid,” Jack replied with an undeniably impressed shake of his head. “Although it’s a bit late to be saying that now.”

 

Bela shot Jack a glare before heading back into the medical room. Depositing the scalpel on a metal tray, she grabbed a syringe. Stripping the packaging off, she sent a silent apology to whomever’s body she was inhabiting and stabbed the needle into her arm. A dull pain washed through her mind, more like an ache than anything else thanks to the barrier that existed between a demon mind and a vessel’s body.

 

Red liquid filled the syringe, thick and darker than Bela had ever seen human blood. Once the syringe was full she slipped it into a small case she found and turned back to the corridor. Jack was waiting for her at the door, an eyebrow raised.

 

“Sherlock wanted a blood sample.”

 

Just then pounding footsteps rounded the corner. The corridor flashed red and there was a zombie sprinting towards them. There wasn’t time to think. Jack pulled out his gun, cocked it and fired. The creature collapsed on the ground with a shrieking cry, bullet lodged in its leg.

 

Its scream was answered. At the end of the corridor another zombie appeared, outlined in red. Darkness as the light flashed away. Then it was back and there were two outlines. The hairs on Bela’s neck stood up. Darkness. Red light. Four zombies.

 

Bela didn’t wait to see what the pattern was. Spinning around she pressed the case holding the syringe into Jack’s hand and shoved him towards the door. The military man quickly caught on and slipped out into the night, disappearing out of sight.

 

As soon as he was gone, Bela turned back to the wires spilling from the access panel like the wall’s innards. Instantly she was out of her depth. She had never thought to read instructions on how to _close_ the door again.

 

Feet started down the corridor towards her. Desperately she shoved the wires together again. Sparks flew but the door didn’t budge. The injured zombie gave a keening cry as the feet carelessly trampled over their fallen comrade.

 

“Fuck it,” Bela muttered again, mouth twisting into a grimace. Grasping the wires in both hands, she yanked as hard as she could. The panel shrieked, sparks flying like a fireworks display. There was a loud groan and the door fell half a metre from the ceiling then shuddered to a stop. The zombies were five metres away.

 

Bracing her feet against the wall, Bela pulled again. In a crescendo of sparks, the wires ripped away from the wall and the thief tumbled backwards. Beside her the door dropped to the ground like a guillotine blade, screeching as it met the metal floor.

 

A second later the zombies slammed into the door, teeth bared against the unyielding concrete. A few crashed to the ground, bodies sprawling over Bela. Instinctively she scrambled backwards, head knocking against the wall behind her. The creatures barely noticed her, preoccupied with the confusion of a closed door, genuine looks of bewilderment on their faces.

 

Carefully Bela pushed herself to her feet, backing away from the zombies. They still didn’t notice her, milling around the door, a few of them pressing at the concrete as if they might simply fall through to the other side. They seemed achingly innocent, like lost creatures who just couldn’t understand, or children without parents to explain the world to them. Behind her, the injured zombie screamed again, but no one cared.

 

Bela tossed her body’s head back and forced her way out of the zombie meatsuit. The grey world once more took over. Slipping through the group of zombies, she slid back between the door and the wall, billowing back out into the night.

 

Jack’s dark green form was hunched over next to the wall. Across his knees was the fast-fading outline of Bela’s body, coloured in a strange black that seemed to spark every now and then. It was the colour of those bodies who were just empty vessels, deserted by their owners and slowly dying. It was the colour of those things that weren’t yet dead but hadn’t been truly alive for a long time.

 

Before the glow was gone, Bela slipped back into her body, easily slotting back into the hollowed out inside. For a moment she lay completely still, revelling in the warm rush of feeling that was so distinctly human. She had missed it, the threads that tied her to this body, all the feelings that had belonged to her in the previous life. It was comforting even if it was just the pretence of humanity.

 

“Bela!” Suddenly she realised that Jack was called her name, voice edged with concern. His hands were on her shoulders, shaking almost viciously. “Come on!”

 

“Relax,” she muttered. “I just went out for a smoke.” She opened her eyes and grinned up at Jack’s glare.

 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Bela said with a smile. Carefully she extracted herself from his lap, clambering to her feet. Jack took the hand she offered and, as soon as he was standing, pulled her into a tight hug. Body betraying her resolve, Bela looped her arms around the military man’s neck and tried not to think about his fingers digging into her back.

 

“Don’t do that again,” Jack growled against her ear.

 

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “No more saving your ass.”

 

“Come on.” Jack was smiling when they pulled apart and Bela instinctively answered with a smile of her own. The Torchwood SUV was waiting for them around the corner. Jack glanced over to where a zombie was pressed against the window of another concrete door. “Remind me never to leave the back door open again.”

 

“And here I thought you liked taking the back door,” Bela quipped as she headed around to the passenger side.

 

“Bela Talbot,” Jack gave her an impressed look. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, sir.” She winked over the top of the SUV before climbing in.

 

It wasn’t until she was sitting in her seat that Bela realised she had no idea where they were going and, honestly, she didn’t know where they could go. It wasn’t like she had anyone out there who would take them in and if Jack had family or friends, he never mentioned. The Torchwood headquarters had been her home, sleeping in the top levels of the building, eating at paper-strewn tables. There had been no need for her to know any other places in Cardiff.

 

“What now?” She asked as soon as Jack was in the car.

 

“We make ourselves useful until Sherlock and John get here,” Jack replied easily, thoughts already ordered as though losing the headquarters had been his plan all along. “We need to go back to that warehouse and see if there’s some way we can trap the zombies inside like these ones.”

 

“If these ones have got this far, surely the others would have escaped as well?”

 

“Unless whoever is controlling them knows we’re trying to stop them. They might’ve thought those zombies would take us out.”

 

Bela nodded and then a thought struck her. Instantly her hands flew to her belt, pulling the tablet out of its pouch. Apart from a couple of new scratches, the device was unharmed. Fingers crossed, Bela turned on the display and opened the zombie radar program. For a moment the tablet stalled, trying to locate the Torchwood network. Then the little green dot of the SUV appeared, fleeing from the infested headquarters.

 

“God, I’m good,” Bela laughed, tilting the tablet towards Jack in answer to his raised eyebrows. “Toshi automatically powers off all electronics including herself in a lockdown but I wrote a secondary program which allows one server to keep running. It can only be accessed electronically and only by me. I’ve got a few files and programs on there, most recently our zombie radar. So long as our captives don’t get into the server room, we still have all the digital essentials.”

 

“You wrote a program to alter my lockdown procedure?” Jack’s voice was flat and distinctly unimpressed. “And you didn’t tell me?”

 

Bela coughed awkwardly. “Yes?”

 

“Of course you did.” A smile appeared on Jack’s face and he chuckled lightly. “Of course you did.”

 

“Were you expecting anything different?”

 

“No really.” Jack shot a grin at her. “I guess that’s why I-”

 

Abruptly his words were choked out by a roaring in Bela’s head. For a moment pain streaked through her mind and it felt as though fingers were plunging through her skin. The phantom hand clenched around her insides in a tight, hot grip and started to rip her away from the world. Grey smoke filtered in to blur out her vision, soaking away the colours of the world.

 

Just as the SUV was about to drop away, Bela managed to shove her tablet at Jack. For a heartbeat she felt his skin against hers and just maybe, she heard him call her name. Then it was gone; Jack, the SUV, the deserted Cardiff streets. Everything was black.

 

Slowly she opened her eyes. It had been a long time since she had last been summoned and she had forgotten how it felt. Around her everything was white tiles, various metal implements and chains hanging from the ceiling. On the floor was a pentagram, Bela in the middle. Standing in front of her was Crowley, clad in fluffy bunny-rabbit slippers.

 

“Bela Talbot,” he smirked and his meatsuit’s eyes narrowed. “I’m so glad that you could make it.”

 

“I wish I felt the same way,” Bela hissed. “What do you want Crowley?”

 

Slowly the King of Hell sauntered over to one of the metal tables cast about the room. Picking up a knife, he ran a finger along the flat of the blade and smirked. Bela’s blood ran cold as she recognised the marks on the surface. She knew that blade, had seen it set golden fireworks sparking through demon’s bodies.

 

“Ah, so you do know this one.” Crowley laughed humourlessly. “Of course you do. You profession was - how did you put it? - To ‘procure unique items’. What’s more unique than a knife that can hurt a demon?”

 

Crowley flicked his hand and chains skimmed across the room, wrapping around Bela’s wrists before she could realise what was happening. Instinctively she lashed out, trying to free herself. Desperately, she reached for the threadbare vestiges of what little demonic power she had. They did nothing, atrophied like limbs that had ceased to be used. As she struggled the chains tightened, yanking her arms up until she was barely touching the floor.

 

“I hate to use such a cliché,” Crowley murmured. “But the harder you struggle, the tighter they will be.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Bela growled through gritted teeth. “You’re the son of Satan trapping girls in torture chambers. There’s no way anyone would think you’re a cliché.”

 

“Perhaps, but how many Kings of Hell have made zombie apocalypses?”

 

The words hit Bela like bricks and human part of her flinched away. Crowley was laughing at her shock, eyes cold and cruel. Electric sparks of fear ran along her spine and all she could think was that she had been wrong, so terribly wrong. While Crowley had prepared to rip the world apart, they had been chasing shadows. Human ashes would fall like snow on a time-ravaged world and Bela would know it was all her fault. If she survived that long.

 

“You should see your face.” Crowley let his mouth drop open, eyes widening in a mock-surprised expression. “Good look on you, darling.”

 

“How?” It was the only word Bela could choke out, asked before she could properly think about it, the ritual to call the horsemen looping in her head. “You’re-”

 

“- the son of Satan. A lovely title.” Crowley smirked and Bela couldn’t help but wonder if his meatsuit could hold anything but a twisted mind. “You should pay more attention to your lesser known translations. I managed to tickle a different ritual from a friend. ‘Fifteen of Satan’s followers and one of God’s daughters. Split the world to bring forth the slaughterers’. It rhymes and everything.”

 

“God’s daughter?” Bela’s voice was thick, the words barely recognisable. Fear coated her insides like mud trying to suck the air from her body.

 

Crowley spread his hands in front of him, the Knife cradled in his upturned palm. “There’s no one closer to God than the demon who wants to be human.”

 

Bela was sure the world tilted then, the scales tipping until she couldn’t tell up from down, couldn’t feel gravity holding her steady. If the chains hadn’t been holding her up like a puppet on strings, her legs would’ve given way.

 

“You’re insane.” Everything was spinning out of control but Bela’s voice was somehow holding steady.

 

“Really?” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “That’s the best you’ve got?” He lazily waved a hand and the pentagram disappeared. More chains slinked across the floor, metal snakes that wound around Bela’s legs. A dusty cloth gag slipped into her mouth and instinctively Bela screamed. Jack’s name was the first thing that came to mind but the word barely registered, muffled like a daughter’s protests or the presence of an apathetic mother. Crowley sauntered over, the Knife twirling between his fingers.

 

“Of course I’m insane, darling. That’s what Hell does. You’ll remember soon enough.” The tip of the Knife rested against her skin, not quite digging into the flesh, just waiting there like a lover’s teasing touches. “I want to know where the rift’s weakest point is and you’re going to tell me.”

 

The Knife pressed forward, slicing through skin. Bela felt it, pain clearer than anything she had felt since the years she spent in Earth’s basement. She had forgotten what it was like to truly feel, not to have that barrier between mind and body, stripped down by the knife that could kill demons. Blood trickled down her arm and she promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

 

“Do let me know if this hurts.” The Knife shoved deeper and Bela screamed Jack’s name again.

 

\------------


	7. Part Six

Part Six

 

As it turned out, Dante’s theory of the underworld was completely wrong. Nine circles of Hell, each with its own sin and in the centre Lucifer? Ridiculous. A nice piece of literature and there can be no denying that Dante was brilliant in his own right, but his idea of Hell could not be further from the truth.

 

The first thing you notice about Hell is the simple insanity of it. There is no order, not even the definite description of chaos can be given to Satan’s realm. Sure, the remnants of souls are strung up where they’re supposed to be but they’re only supposed to be there because that is where they happen to be.

 

Yes, those demons that thrive in the liquid-splatter of Hell are torturing the people they are meant to torture but it’s not allocated. You just torture whichever helpless soul happens to be closest to you. There is no structure or routine. Sometimes demons will rip each other apart over who is torturing who.

 

The worst thing about Hell is the floor plan, or indeed, the lack of one. You need a floor for a floor plan. There is no ground or ceiling in Hell, no sky or any indication of direction at all. You can easily find yourself upside-down, well upside-down according to the person strung up above you.

 

Gravity, it seems, revels in this idea. It obeys no Earthly laws, instead choosing to take Hell’s madness to heart. You might be suspended above someone but their blood and intestines and tears and other bodily fluids you’re glad you can’t name will all be dripping onto your face.

 

Meanwhile, there is no sense of time. You could have been tortured for five minutes or five years but your torturer will tell you it has only been five seconds. It doesn’t really matter of course. You’re stuck in Hell and nothing will change until you turn on your fellow humans.

 

Why keep time? On the surface they will know the hours, months, years that you’ve been gone, but what does it matter down below? Time’s just another human construction that you will lose. It’s just another part of your humanity being peeled away. It’s another thing that you can’t control or count and once the blades touch your flesh, you won’t remember it either.

 

That, of course, leads to the torture. This is the very defining reason of Hell, the meaning of its existence. It’s not just a knife pressing into flesh and the lancing agony screaming through your nerves. It’s the sound of crunching bones and the wet splat of blood against your skin. It’s the sight of your insides falling from the hole in your abdomen. It’s the smell of flesh roasting in the flames that keep you warm.

 

In Hell, you don't pay for your sins in blood. In Hell, you lose your mind; you pay for your sins in sanity, the highest cost. When you can no longer face another club smashing your bones or another knife scooping out your eye, you give up. You get off the rack and you become the one with the power, the torturer.

 

Then you think that it has finished, that your Hell is over. You think that the torture has ended and you will never feel that pain again. It’s a small price to pay, black eyes for the end. The whip rips open skin and you feel the vibrations run up the handle. It takes a while but when the screams reach your ears you’ll realise the truth.

 

Your torture has only just begun.

 

\------------

 

Blood was trickling down Bela’s arms in a constant warm river. Crowley was lazily dragging the Knife between her fingers now, slicing through the soft webbing in between. There were cuts on her legs, arms, stomach, all of them starting to heal thanks to the demon part of her. Bela choked down a sob and forced tears from her eyes.

 

Hell flashed in her mind, glimpses and montages, years of flames and torture burned so deeply into her mind. It had taken a long time until she could close her eyes and not see a crackling film of memories spread across her eyelids. Now every cut reminded her of the faces of souls she had tortured. Every time Crowley laughed her memories laughed with him, eyes black holes in her head.

 

All this time, she had been lying to herself, she realised that now. She had adopted this naive idea that she could be human, this pathetic dream that it would all be okay. The Knife dug deeper and her memories screamed and howled in her mind. The Knife dug deeper and she was the one pressing it through soft flesh.

 

“All I need to know is where the weak point of the rift is.” Crowley’s voice hissed in her ear, breath wet against her skin and her mind jerked back from the Hellfire images of a different time. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to focus on the present, on the King of Hell demanding answers.

 

Barely managing to keep her voice steady she choked out, “Find it yourself.”

 

“I can’t,” Crowley growled, spinning away from her momentarily. “That damned Doctor’s hidden it with some kind of cloaking device. There’s no one I can find who knows where it is.”

 

“So-” Bela coughed a splatter of blood onto the floor. “Why don’t you ask Jack.”

 

Crowley slowly turned to her, a smirk on his face. “You don’t know anything about your beloved Captain Harkness, do you?”

 

“I know enough,” she snapped, the defensive walls she had long ago mastered fending off Crowley’s words.

 

“Surely you know he’s immortal, completely incapable of being killed.” The cold metal of the Knife slipped under Bela’s chin as Crowley forced her head up. “Demons can’t possess him either, I don’t know if you’ve tried. There’s something very wrong with your man.”

 

“So long as he’s not you,” Bela spat, trying not to think about the Knife’s edge pressing into her throat as she spoke.

 

“If only you knew all the things he’s done.” Crowley gave a chilling laugh. “All the people he’s killed and all the friends he’s let die.”

 

“I know.” Bela’s voice was hoarse, rasping painfully in her throat. All those records of the dead, all those who weren’t immortal. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“You’re very obstinate about his innocence, darling. We’ll see how long it lasts. He certainly hasn’t come to save you, now has he?”

 

A loud click echoed through the room, the sound of gun cocking that could be salvation or damnation. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” It took all of Bela’s will power not to cry with relief. Jack was standing in the doorway, a tall angular man Bela recognised as Sherlock Holmes and another who had to be John Watson, standing behind him.

 

“You’re sure that’s not Moriarty?” John’s face was terse and pale, disbelief and uncertainty written across his face. “It bloody well seems like him.”

 

“No it’s not, John.” It was Sherlock who replied, eyes flicking up and down Crowley’s body. “Moriarty’s dead.”

 

“Yes, and so were you.”

 

“We don’t have time for this,” Jack said. He stepped into the room, gun trained on Crowley. It wasn’t until he moved under the bright lights that Bela recognised the markings on the weapon. She knew that gun, knew it as well as the knife in the hand of the King of Hell’s. It was the Colt.

 

“How did you get that?” Crowley’s eyes were narrow slits, not small enough to hide the surprise in them.

 

“I got it from an old friend,” Jack replied with a humourless smirk that seemed to twist his face. “He was going to give me a knife rather like yours but apparently there was some kind of paradox problem.”

 

“The Doctor,” Crowley hissed angrily. “I suppose I should have known.”

 

Jack levelled the Colt at the demon’s head. “Let Bela go.”

 

 “Of course,” Crowley replied, voice silky smooth. His hand tightened on the Knife and Bela was reminded of how venerable she was, strung up to the ceiling.

 

Suddenly there was an explosion of movement. Crowley lurched to the side then froze as a gunshot echoed around the room. The bullet buried itself in the wall behind Bela, leaving a small hole in the demon’s blazer, inches from his body.

 

“Let Bela go,” Jack repeated calmly, chambering another round. “Or the next bullet will find flesh.”

 

“You make an excellent argument.” Crowley waved a hand and the chains slipped away from Bela. Gravity took hold and she collapsed on the ground, legs giving up. Seconds later hands were helping her up, Sherlock taking one side, John taking the other. Carefully they lifted until her feet found the ground again.

 

“Now tell us how to stop the zombies.”

 

“What makes you think I can stop them?” Crowley asked, the Knife still resting easily in his hand.

 

“I know how the virus works,” Sherlock cut in. “Interesting but simple. You send instructions to one ‘mother’ zombie who acts as an aerial, projecting it to the others. Take out the mother and the signal falls apart. The aggression goes dormant and the zombies return to the nest.”

 

“We just need to know where that nest is,” Jack finished.

 

“And you think you’re going to make me tell you?” Cautiously Bela took a step forward, leaning on the detectives as little as possible. Her legs shook for a moment, the dull remnants of the torture sparking pain in her muscles, but they held. Unhooking her arms from around Sherlock and John’s shoulders, she limped around Crowley and came to stand next to Jack, her human crutches following.

 

“He might not be able to,” Bela hissed at the King of Hell. “But I sure as Hell can. Give me the gun, Jack.”

 

“You’re mad, right?” John asked then turned to Jack. “She’s just insane from the shock.”

 

“I’ve always been mad.” Bela let her eyes fade to black and a smirk that had been born in front of screaming sinners pulled her mouth back. “That’s just what Hell does, right Crowley?”

 

She held out her hand and the cold metal of the Colt fell into her fingers. Automatically her hand curled around it but Jack didn’t let go. She turned to him, forgetting her black eyes. He didn’t wince or flinch away, just searched her face for something.

 

“Trust me.” It seemed stupid, asking the military man to let go of the gun, asking him to give his weapon to a demon with coals from Hell as eyes. Why, she wondered, why would he ever trust her? Jack let go of the Colt and Bela decided she could untangle her emotions later. “You should wait outside.”

 

“Okay,” Jack nodded and muted relief flashed in her mind. She didn’t want any of them seeing this.

 

Slowly Bela walked up to Crowley, gaze meeting his squarely, as footsteps left the room. Taking a vivid from one of the nearby tables she drew a pentagram around Crowley, small enough that she could reach him from outside the symbol. The door closed behind them with a click like a safety thumbed back. Eyes never leaving Crowley’s, Bela pressed the Colt to his knee.

 

“Let me remind you of Hell,” she hissed, face inches from the King of Hell’s. Then she pulled the trigger.

 

\------------

 

Five minutes later Bela opened the door to find her three rescuers milling in the corridor beyond. They glanced over to her, eyes going wide at the red liquid splattered across her face and over her arms. The Colt was in her hand, barrel red with sticky, congealing blood.

 

Bela blinked slowly at them, not quite processing what was happening. It was strange going from the blaring white of the tiled torture chamber to the cool, dim light of the corridor. Bela couldn’t help feeling she had stepped from a dream into reality, a reality where the dream was a nightmare and the nightmare was real.

 

She had seen Hell again, had gotten lost in the memories that once more came so easily. It had been easy to forget the people, the humans, waiting outside for her. It had been easy to be a demon when they weren’t looking. It had been so easy, too easy, to be the torturer again.

 

Jack was in front of her, hands held up before him, showing he had no weapons. That hurt more than Bela thought it would, seeing her boss, the joker, approaching her as if she might hurt him. Shakily she offered the Colt to him, trying to smile but not quite getting there.

 

“I’m sorry.” Bela said the words before she had really thought about it, just a fleeting thought in the turmoil of Hell and Earth. Jack took the gun, flicked the safety on and dropped it into one of his pockets. “I just-” To her dismay, Bela’s voice cracked and a sob slipped out. “It’s all I can remember; Hell. The fire, the torture-”

 

A second later her legs gave in as the sobs turned her muscles to jelly. Instantly arms wrapped around her, lowering her gently to the ground. They pulled her in close against the coarse wool of the military coat Jack wore. Later on she knew she would regret this display of weakness but for now she clung to the body holding her up.

 

“Hey, hey, come on.” Jack’s voice was soft, rumbling in his chest. There was a pause as he jerked his head to the side and two pairs of footsteps slipped into the other room. “You’re alright, everything’s going to be alright.”

 

“ _No_.” Abruptly the sobs dropped away, stamped down by waves of uncontrollable anger, burning everything in its path. “No it won’t.” She pushed away from the military man, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “The things I’ve done, Jack. I’m a demon, a _monster_.”

 

“Bullshit.” There wasn’t anger in Jack’s voice or exasperation at the teary girl in his lap. Just that calm confidence, waiting like a brick wall for Bela to smash up against or lean back onto. “You’re not like Crowley and you know it. I’ll tell you as many times as I need to. I trust you with my life.”

 

“Why?” It seemed like such a simple question but the answer was silence, a hesitation stretching for too long to be just a pause. “Why? I’ve killed people.”

 

“So have I.” The reply was quiet, a secret whispered in confession that they both knew but have never spoken aloud.

 

“I’m a creature from Hell, Jack. I’ve tortured people, stripping their rights away until they couldn’t control their own bodies. I’m not human. I don’t die, I don’t grow old.”

 

Jack shrugged and for a second there was a rueful smile on his face. “Neither do I.”

 

Bela didn’t bother thinking then, didn’t bother trying to be the stoic soldier or the damsel in distress. She forgot to maintain the mystery and hide her emotions under the carefully constructed barriers in her mind. She forgot about everything and pressed her lips against Jack’s and felt his press back.

 

A hand found its way into her hair as her arms looped around his neck. It was an uncomfortable position, twisted and tangled. It was words that no longer needed to be spoken. She could love this man, Captain Jack Harkness, and Bela had never felt so human.

 

Then an awkward cough came from behind them and suddenly they were jumping apart. John was standing in the door to the white-tiled room, trying to both look at them and desperately avoid their eyes.

 

“Right.” Bela’s voice was shaky and in her mind she hurriedly attempted to push her defensive walls back into place. “Sorry.” She moved to stand when Jack’s hands caught her hips.

 

“See, what did I tell you?” He was smirking at her, nothing but humour in his eyes; no horror or regret in his expression. “I’m irresistible.”

 

Bela had to laugh. “You keep telling yourself that, sir.” Carefully she extradited herself from his lap, Jack releasing her from his grip. Once she was on her feet, she offered him a hand, pulling him upright with a smile.

 

“Hurry up!” Sherlock called from in the torture chamber. Bela slipped past John, valiantly managing not to blush as Jack followed her. Crowley was standing in the pentagram where he had been lying when she left him. His clothes were dotted with holes as if someone had attacked him with a hole-punch. Blood was seeping in puddles over the floor but the wounds in the demon’s meatsuit were healing rapidly.

 

“Would you like me to tell them,” Bela asked Crowley with a twisted smile. “Or are you going to?”

 

“Allow me.” The demon straightened his blazer, fingers catching on various holes in the material. “The infected individual you’re looking for is in a quarry by Coed y Ddylluan. You certainly have some inventive names around here.”

 

“I know that quarry,” Jack said, eyes narrowed. “It’s not far from Mary Immaculate High School.”

 

“Well in that case,” Crowley smirked and Bela knew there was something wrong. “You had better hurry.”

 

“What do y-” Jack’s words were cut short by a burst of movement. Pulling the Knife out from one of his pockets, Crowley flung it across the room. Instantly Bela dived at Jack, trying to shove him out of the way. At the same time the military man threw himself at her. They collided in mid-air, falling to the ground awkwardly but unhurt.

 

Hurriedly Bela struggled to her feet but it was too late. The Knife was buried between tiles a metre from where John was standing in front of Sherlock, gun drawn.Crowley was gone. On the floor, black threads swirled in red liquid where the slowly spreading blood was washing away the pen-drawn pentagram.

 

“Move, John.” It was Sherlock who spoke first, pushing past his blogger to stand in front of Jack. “The quarry is 10 minutes away. You need to leave now.” He shoved a case into the military man’s hands. “This is enough to cure the mother zombie and others. We’ll start making more and curing anyone we find.”

 

“Okay.” Jack nodded slowly. “Be careful.”

 

“We’ll be fine,” John said, coming to stand next to Sherlock like a protective shadow. “I’ll keep him safe.” For a moment the mysterious detective looked exasperated then his expression softened to something akin to tired acceptance.

 

“Come on,” Jack was tugging at her arm, all but dragging her along. “We don’t have time to stare at the lovebirds.”

 

Once more they were running, this time dashing through rooms that Bela had never seen. Crowley seemed to have adopted a small shop as his hideout, converting the basement into his rumpus room. Bela took a two second pit-stop to wash the incriminating blood off her hands before following Jack out to the Torchwood SUV.

 

“Go!” She said as soon as she was inside. The car lurched away from the pavement, wheels screeching momentarily. “Impressive,” Bela commented with a laugh.

 

“Thank you.” Jack inclined his head, smiling at her. They swung around a corner and down another road. A few seconds later and the SUV was crossing a small bridge.

 

“Do you have any idea where you are going?”

 

“The A48 will take us right past the quarry.”

 

“Right,” she nodded, remembering what he had said. “You’ve been there before.”

 

“A friend of mine dropped me off a cliff there once.” There was a small smile on his face, not yet tampered down by the pain of loss.

 

“Figures,” Bela muttered, inwardly cheering as the smile widened instead of fading. “So, how did you find me?”

 

“Oh, I have-” Jack trailed off, reaching into one of his coats pockets. His hand reappeared again, holding Bela’s slightly more scratched tablet. “Here.” She took it with a strangely strong wave of happiness. It had felt wrong not having the little device with her.

 

“So you managed to use it?”

 

“Yes,” Jack shot her a soft smile. “It’s a good thing you were able to give that to me before you were gone.  We were able to write a program to pick up on the summoning spells residue to locate you.”

 

“I-” Bela hesitated. “That’s very impressive, Jack. Did it take you long?”

 

“An hour or so,” the military man confessed. “Why?”

 

“So I was being tortured and not telling Crowley how to destroy the world for...” She glanced down at the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours, whilst you were writing a program to find me?”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

“You know, I turned on my GPS.” Bela couldn’t stop herself bursting into laughter as they reached the motorway and started dodging between lanes. “You could have just opened up the tracking program and found me instantly.”

 

“Oh,” Jack replied and Bela just laughed harder.

 

\------------


	8. Part Seven

Part Seven

 

Sherlock’s time frame was almost perfect. Bela and Jack made it to the quarry with a minute to spare. The military man passed the demon her gun and an extra magazine. For a moment he caught her hand, holding it tightly.

 

“Be careful,” Jack’s voice was quiet, eyes focussedon her.

 

“Always am.”

 

“I mean it, Bela.” She nodded, her hand instinctively coming up to cover his.

 

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured. “You’ve got my back.”

 

“Always do,” was his soft reply. Then his hand was slipping away and Jack was climbing out of the SUV. Bela followed, trying not to think about the tingling in her hand or the stupidly mushy feeling in her chest.

 

They had stopped as soon as the first buildings had come into sight, not wanting to miss anything in the ink black of the witching hour. Now Bela stood in front of the SUV, eyes straining to make out as much as possible with the moon hidden behind thick cloud cover.  To each side were squat buildings, no doubt the administration quarters of the quarry. Beyond them, all she could make out were towering, twisted structures lurking in vague silhouettes against the horizon.

 

“This place could not be creepier,” Bela muttered as Jack came to stand beside her.

 

“Not scared are you?” She shot him a glare although it was probably lost in the night.

 

“Don’t insult me, Captain Harkness.” Jack turned to the SUV and pressed a button on the keys he still had in his hands. Instantly light slammed into Bela’s eyes, bursting from the powerful flood lamps mounted atop the car. Stars dancing across her vision, the thief threw another glare in Jack’s direction. “Give a girl some warning next time you flash her.”

 

“Where would the fun be in that?” Jack said with a chuckle. Blinking her eyes rapidly, Bela glanced around at the now illuminated quarry. She almost wished the lights had stayed off.

 

All around them were huge complex structures of wood and metal, each of them used for the transportation, sorting, storage and processing of anything the quarry workers ripped from the earth. The light cut across their limbs, throwing shadows everywhere and turning the ordinary structures into man-made beasts of supernatural size. Among them crouched mutated machinery, the sentries that obeyed humans by day and were left to slumber by night.

 

It seemed that there were a thousand places for something to hide and a million ways to meet an unfortunate end. Bela had to give Crowley credit. By day the quarry might well have been the lifeline for local families but with only the harsh light from the SUV to hold back the dark, it was The Joker’s abandoned fairground.

 

With zombies.

 

“This is going to be fun,” she muttered, pulling a torch and Glock from her belt. She flicked the small light on, just testing it. For a moment nothing happened then a small beam burst from the torch. Instantly it started spluttering, ducking in and out. “And a faulty torch, that’s great.”

 

“What about the school?” Jack said slowly, his mind clearly a few kilometres from the quarry. “Crowley said we should hurry when I mentioned Mary Immaculate High School.”

 

“That’s just him playing with us,” Bela replied calmly, checking the ammunition in her belt. “He wants to split us up. Divide and conquer, very Crowley. Who’s going to be at school at one in the morning anyway?”

 

“Are you sure?” There wasn’t really uncertainty in Jack’s voice, just the overhanging knowledge of the world once more resting in their hands.

 

Bela looked over to the military man with a smile. “Trust me.”

 

“Of course,” he replied with a nod. They both paused for a moment, checking their equipment but staring out beyond their haven of light. There were fingers of cold dread ghosting down Bela’s spine and the uncomfortable feeling that they might not see the sun rise. Angrily she pushed fear down, not letting it distract her.

 

“Here.” Jack offered her five syringes, each filled with a clear liquid. “Whilst I was writing a program to find you, Sherlock made enough doses of Croatoan cure to set us up for a zombie hunt.”

 

“Of course. You were trying to save my life and cheekbones wasn’t helping.”

 

“No,” Jack said with raised eyebrows. “He was trying to save the world.”

 

“Yes, yes,” she growled. “Very noble. I’m sure the Winchesters would love him.”

 

A wane smile crossed Jack’s face but faded quickly. “Do you think there might be demons out there?”

 

“I wouldn’t put it beyond Crowley,” Bela replied. “He’s not one to hold back.”

 

“Then you’ll need this.” Jack handed her the Knife, its blade cleaned of demon blood. “I picked it up before we left and I'm guessing you know how to fight with blades.”

 

“I know enough,” she said grimly, taking the weapon and slotting it in her belt. “What’s the plan?”

 

“We start there-” he gestured to the larger of the structures on their right “-and move across to the smaller one.”

 

“Starting big,” Bela said, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe the zombies will give us directions when we get lost.”

 

“Let’s go,” Jack said authoritively, ignoring Bela’s comment.

 

They pulled away from the SUV reluctantly, moving towards the hulking construction. The flood lamps still lit the world around them but Bela’s back felt disturbingly exposed without the metal vehicle to brace against. She couldn’t help re-adjusting her grip on the Glock, forcing away the urge to check behind her.

 

The light followed them all the way to the structure, dulling the further they got. As they slipped under the first shadow, no more than a dark line across the gravel, Bela raised her torch and flipped it on. Jack copied her.  Bela felt a chill run down her spine as Jack’s torch started flickering with hers.

 

“Demons,” she whispered, their eyes meeting for a moment. Then they were desperately searching through the darkness. Their beams caught on the dusty machinery and made the dirty metal gleam. Each time they flickered, the shadows cast would dance around them and the machines would blink like waiting monsters.

 

Moving even more cautiously than before, they made their way around a crouched digger. The teeth of its bucket seemed to reach out to them, snagging Bela’s jacket for a second. Hastily she pulled away, not caring about the ripped material. Jack ushered her over to a small door set in the side of one of the walls.

 

“Do you think we should knock first?” Bela asked, trying not to think about how dry her throat was. Jack just ignored her and flattened himself against the wall beside the door. She mimicked him on the opposite side. Trying to keep her breathing calm, she flicked the safety off her gun.

 

“Ready?” He asked, voice taking on its serious leader tone. A thousand smart replies came to Bela’s mind but in the end she just nodded. Slowly Jack turned the doorknob. With a soft click the door swung open and she darted inside.

 

Quickly she threw her torch around the room, trying to cover as much of the space as possible. It was hard to see in the flickering light, bright one second, pitch black the next. All she found were strange instruments and machines she had never seen before. A second later Jack’s beam joined hers, jumping around the room. Most of the time at least one of their torches would be lighting the space but every now and then they would synchronise to complete darkness.

 

“Keep going?” Bela let her torch beam rest on a door to their left.

 

“What else?” Jack brushed past her and the thief tried to mask her jump at the unexpected contact. Steeling herself, she followed her boss over to the second door. This one had a window in the top half but it was impossible to see anything beyond the grime ingrained in the glass. Jack reached out to the door knob as Bela glanced behind her.

 

“Wait.” Her torchlight was lingering on a second door, opposite the one they came through. She hadn’t noticed it behind a particularly peculiar looking metal contraption. “There’s another door.”

 

“We’ll come back to it.” Bela directed a glare at Jack that clearly expressed her feelings on the matter.

 

“Bela, no.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sighed. “If we don’t split up this is going to take all night.”

 

“That,” he gestured in the direction of both the door and Bela, “is a really bad idea.”

 

“We’re in the middle of a no doubt booby-trapped quarry in the middle of the night with real life zombies lurking in the darkness and the king of Hell gunning for us. Pray tell me, what part of this _is_ a good idea?”

 

“Fine,” Jack relented darkly. “But put your Bluetooth in and don’t turn it off this time.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Bela half-grumbled, pulling the little earpiece out of its pocket in her belt.

 

“I want to hear your voice all the time.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Carefully she hooked the device around her ear, managing to balance her torch and gun in one hand. “Permission to proceed all alone into what could be a nest of zombies?”

 

“Remind me why I keep you around,” Jack sighed.

 

“You love my charming personality, sir,” she replied with a smile, then slipped through the door.

 

She found herself outside the protective walls of the inner structure. Instantly cold air pressed up against her body, filtering between the threads of her clothing. It was a chilling reminder of the night, the brisk wind swirling through the quarry.

 

Bela was underneath the gigantic structure now, its metal belly hanging above her head. On all sides, chutes plunged down into the ground, stilted legs for the beast to balance on. Around each chute was a perplexing array of machinery.

 

Cautiously she started to move across the ground, torch balanced under her raised gun. On all sides the shadows followed her, flashing in and out. Gravel crunched loudly under her feet and Bela couldn’t shake the feeling that there were a hundred eyes watching her.

 

 _“I can’t hear you talking.”_ The earpiece burst into life, Jack’s voice coming through clear and too loud in her ear. Bela made a sound somewhat akin to a ‘meep’ and swung violently to the side before she realised where the voice had come from.

 

“Jesus Ch–” she hissed, heart pounding in her chest. “I just about – you just – I am going to kill you.”

 

 _“Sorry,”_ Jack said, A glimmer of amusement in his voice. _“You weren’t talking.”_

 

“Talking, right.” She cast a pointless glare at the building. “You want me to be talking.”

 

“ _That was the deal. Where are you?”_

 

“I’m outside. Where are you?”

 

_“Outside where?”_

 

“Where do you think?” She grumbled, starting to move forward once more. “I’m under the monstrosity you decided we should check first.”

 

_“Is there anything out there?”_

 

“You are really bad at this ‘keep her talking thing’.” She skirted around the edge of a large pile of rocks. “Don’t you think I would have told you if there’s anything out here.”

 

 _“Fine, you do the talking.”_ For a moment Bela considered arguing, then a cruel idea presented itself in her mind.

 

“You know,” she said conversationally, leaning over a small pit in the earth. “People always split up in horror movies.”

 

 _“What?”_ Jack’s voice was suspicious of where she was going.

 

The pit was empty. “That’s when they die.”

 

 _“Bela...”_ Jack’s voice was tight, brokering no argument.

 

“Well, the hot girl does anyway. Some violent axe murderer gets her.”

 

_“Bela.”_

 

“Good thing we’re not in a horror movie.”

 

_“Remind me to fire you.”_

 

“Then again... zombies and in the middle of the night.”

 

_“Never mind, I’m going to kill you.”_

 

“And a dem-” Bela broke off suddenly. Out of the corner of her eyes something moved. Instantly she froze, straining to try and make out the movement again. Nothing moved. Very slowly she started to turn, cursing the flickering torchlight.

 

 _“Bela?”_ She ignored Jack’s voice.

 

 _There!_ It moved again. Just the tiniest shift of a body. Perhaps the settling of something about to pounce. Bela took a deep breath. Then she spun to face the shadow. The torchlight whipped with her. It landed on a shred of cloth, impaled on a nail. The wind picked up again and it fluttered lightly.

 

“Fuck,” she hissed, angry at herself for scaring so easily.

 

 _“Bela!”_ Jack’s voice had a desperate edge. _“What’s going on?”_

 

“Keep your knickers on,” she snapped instinctively. “I don’t have to keep in touch every second.”

 

“ _Okay, sorry.”_ There was an understanding in Jack’s voice that Bela both hated and loved. _“I just thought that-”_

 

“No.” Her voice softened, an unspoken apology hidden under it. “Everything’s fine.”

 

 _“Okay, just be-”_ Jack’s last words were drowned out by static. Then a shout forced its way through. _“ **Bela**!”_

 

Suddenly everything went completely silent. No Jack. No static. Just silence. Instantly Bela was moving. Her feet slammed against the gravel as she sprinted back over her footprints. The torch swung back and forth at her side, but she barely needed the light. All she wanted was to keep moving.

 

Dodging around the last obstacle, she crashed into the door. It gave way under her, slamming back against the wall with a bang. Barely slowing, she dashed inside. The spluttering torch lit the inside in glimpses. It pinned the wildly dancing shadows in freeze-frames against the wall.

 

Bela hit the door Jack had taken at full tilt. It swung open, revealing a large space beyond it. At first the room seemed strangely empty. Then the torch light caught on a shape in the corner. It was Jack, crumpled on the floor. Bela charged over to him, skidding to a halt and dropping. The military man looked almost fine, except his neck was twisted at an impossible angle.

 

“Oh dear.” A voice filtered out from the shadows on the other side of the room. Just then the neon lights Bela hadn’t noticed swinging from the ceiling flickered on. The King of Hell seemed to form from the darkness itself, black suit composed of shadows. “Looks like your Prince Charming took a tumble.”

 

“Crowley,” Bela hissed angrily. “You know you can’t win this.”

 

“Really?” The demon turned to look a door on the other side of the room. As Bela glanced over, it opened. One by one zombies began to file into the room. Each of them turned to stare at her with black eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I think the odds are in my favour.”

 

“You sick f-”

 

  1. “Now, now, darling.”   Crowley grinned widely, spreading his hands in front of him. “There’s no need for that. Just tell me how to open the rift and you and your dearly beloved are free to go.”



 

“And what if I say no?” Bela asked scathingly. “You’re going to kill us? You know you can’t kill Jack and in case you haven’t noticed-” she pulled the Knife out from her belt, shifting her crouch into a fighting stance “-I’m the one with the demon-killing knife.”

 

“Good for you,” Crowley replied with a patronising smile. “One little problem with your plan. While a demon can possess a zombie without getting hurt, if a zombie bites a demon... Well let’s just say you won’t be saving any lives afterwards.”

 

Crowley grinned widely and Bela let her hand slip under Jack’s coat. “And if that’s what happens to a demon, I can’t imagine what will happen to your Captain Jack Harkness.”

 

Bela’s searching hand closed around the cold metal of the Colt, just as Jack suddenly jerked awake. Not waiting to explain, the thief pulled the gun from his belt and swung it up to point at Crowley. She was seconds too late. The King of Hell was gone.

 

On the other side of the room, the demon-zombies started to move towards them.

 

“Get up!” Yanking Jack to his feet, Bela thrust the Colt into his hand, taking the Knife in her own. Mind still struggling to catch up, Jack shook his head at the weapon, eyes glancing at the once-human creatures advancing on them. “We don’t have time for this. You have to kill them.”

 

“No.” Jack’s voice was cold and unyielding. “They’re still human.”

 

A gunshot rang through the room. It seemed to bounce off the walls and echo back to the pair time and time again. The demon-zombie at the front of the pack reeled backwards, knocking his friends away. There was a hole in his forehead. John was standing in the doorframe closest to them, gun still raised. Sherlock was next to him, wielding a handful of syringes.

 

“The cure doesn’t quite work,” Sherlock said. “The virus mutates the cells within the hosts bo-”

 

“Sherlock,” John interrupted his detective with a steady voice. His gaze moved to Jack’s, understanding between military men written on his face. “No, Jack. They’re not human. Not anymore.”

 

“Good.” Bela smiled at each of them in turn before turning to the demon army that was almost upon them. “Let’s kill them all.”

 

She didn’t bother to wait for a reply. Shifting the Knife around so the blade ran down her arm, she threw herself at the demon-zombie closest to her. Instinctively he dodged backwards and found himself tangling limbs with the demon-zombie behind him. Unable to stand, the hapless pair tumbled to the ground. Bela grinned. This was going to be too easy.

 

Knife slicing through the air, she buried the blade up to the hilt in the nearest creatures chest. Gold lines sparked under the demon-zombie’s skin at the impact. They spread out from the wound like a spider web spun from gold. The black eyes faded to red as the demon withered away.

 

But the creature was still alive. The wound hadn’t killed it yet. Snarling the zombie writhed on the end of Bela’s knife. Without thinking, she pulled the syringe out of her belt and slammed it into the creature’s flesh.

 

Instantly the snarling stopped, the zombie’s body going limp. Instead it started to cough violently, blood spurting from its mouth. For a moment Bela thought Sherlock was wrong, thought that she had buried her knife in a human. For a moment she thought she had killed a defenceless human and pure, human anguish ripped through her veins.

 

Then the zombie reached for her again, fingers like claws and lips pulled back from its teeth. There wasn’t any of the rabid urgency; the need to kill that was there before. It was just instinct, lashing out at the enemy. The cure had stopped Crowley’s kill orders reaching the zombie but it wasn’t human. Not anymore.

 

Bela didn’t have time to think about the revelation. A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her backwards. She barely had the presence of mind to wrap a hand around the Knife and take it with her. For a strange moment she was swinging in a circle as her captor wrenched her up from the ground. It gave her a glimpse of the carnage in the room.

 

Jack was standing in one corner, the Colt in his hand. Systematically he cocked, aimed and fired. Just as Bela glanced at him, Jack pulled the trigger and nothing happened. The Colt was dry. Face grim and zombies closing in around him, Jack dropped to the floor, pushing bullets into the revolver as quickly as he could.

 

On the other side of the room John was standing between the zombies and Sherlock, face determined as he shot at the creatures. Then the detective pointed, words falling from his mouth just loud enough for Bela to hear.

 

“That’s it! The mother!” Sherlock was pointing to a zombie at the back of the room. It was hunched over on itself, bloodshot eyes following the squirming bodies.

 

Bela didn’t hesitate. Flipping the Knife in her hands, she stabbed it into the body behind her. The hand around her hair went limp and she easily slipped free. Without pausing she leapt over a corpse, swinging her hand up to slash the throat of a zombie on the other side. Slipping a hand into her belt, she pulled out another syringe. Her eyes remained fixed on the shape in the corner.

 

On the other side of the room she heard Jack swear loudly. Forcing herself not to look, she shouldered the last zombie out of the way. Her target looked up as she stopped in front of it. Perhaps ironically, the mother was a male. For a moment Bela was struck with the sense that she knew him.

 

The creature stood up, face turning into the light. Then it clicked. The creature’s face was bloodied and bruised but she could see who it was. There was no hesitation. Simultaneously Bela buried the syringe in flesh and slammed the Knife into the soft flesh under her father’s jaw.

 

The reaction was instantaneous. All around the room the demon-zombies paused, eyes going wide as the connection to the mother, and Crowley, was severed. It gave Torchwood and the detectives the hesitation they needed.

 

Jack wrestled away from the zombie who had grabbed him. Sliding the last bullet into place, he snapped the Colt back together with a flick of his wrist. Bela flipped over a crouching demon-zombie, coming to stand next to the military man. John and Sherlock dodged around a pair of dazed creatures, coming up on Jack’s other side.

 

“Should we kill them?” The tall detective pulled out a Glock from the depths of his coat.

 

“Sherlock!” John sounded exasperated. “I thought I had lost that gun.”

 

“You left it in on our bed-side table.”

 

“Right, I _left_ it there. It was _supposed_ to be there!”

 

“Focus!” Jack broke in, exchanging amused looks with Bela. “Come on, thief. Let’s save the world.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a grin.

 

\------------


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Torchwood was equally loved and hated after the events of the 26th and 27th of June. Videos of Bela and Jack saving (or ‘saving’ as some people said) various Cardiff residents from other more rabid Cardiff residents went viral in hours. Whilst many people in the world thought they were heroes, many others (a few of them demons) thought they were just killing humans.

 

A few other people argued that it was a government conspiracy to hide a secret project gone awry. In reality, the government itself was also in two minds. On one hand Torchwood had, once more, saved the Earth. On the other, there was a growing number of bodies to clean up at random places around the city.

 

And then there was that matter of the foreign minister’s aid who got a little bite-y after going to see family in Cardiff.

 

Meanwhile Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had raised their voices in support of the Torchwood pair, now being seen more and more consistently with Captain Harkness and his beautiful sidekick. The newspapers didn’t hold back, of course, especially after an anonymous someone recognised Bela (she continued to insist it was one of the Winchesters).

 

_‘Torchwood: Home to the World’s Greatest Thief’_

 

‘ _The Joker and the Thief: Captain Jack Harkness Laughs at Killer Accusations’_

_‘Hat-man, Robin, the Joker and the Thief: Britain’s Very Own Justice League’_

_‘Torchwood’s Double-date:_ Sugar _has the Latest Scoop’_

 

In the end, none of it really made a difference and in three months, the zombie apocalypse was all but forgotten.

 

\------------

 

Bela burst into Jack’s office, narrowly avoiding a stack of books next to the door. Grin plastered on her face, she all but skipped over to the military man’s desk. On the wall above Jack was a framed newspaper article, the title screaming ‘ _Torchwood’s Guide To The Zombie Apocalypse’_.

 

“I found it!” Bela declared, depositing her tablet on top of the book Jack was reading. “Well, Toshi found it anyway.”

 

“Found what exactly?” Jack asked, smile already pulling up his lips.

 

“The thing that came through the rift last night,” Bela replied with a tone that said she really expected him to figure that out. “It’s from Rexy-con-fall-on-a-tourist!”

 

Jack stared at her blankly for a second. “Sorry, what?”

 

“That place that you and the Doctor- The Slitheen!” Bela gushed, waving her arms in a vague, you-know-what-I’m-talking-about gesture.

 

“Raxacoricofallapatorius?”

 

“That-” Bela clicked her fingers at him. “That’s the one. Toshi tracked it down and the system files recognised particles from that place.”

 

A second later Jack was on his feet, pulling his coat from its hook. “Call Sherlock and John.”

 

“Already done,” she replied with a smile, picking her tablet up from Jack’s desk. “What now, sir?”

 

The joker offered her his arm. “Want to save the world again, Miss Talbot?”

 

“How many times is this now, Captain Harkness?”

 

“Oh, only about four times so far.”

 

The thief smiled and linked her arm in his. “Well then, we should make it an even five.”

 

\------------

 


End file.
